


The Glow of Auracite

by Alliemoo



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bloodletting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Hey this isn't cannon anymore, Humor, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I need a happy ending but we need to go through some shiz first, Kinky, My heart can't take it, i live for angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:08:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 58,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24784387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alliemoo/pseuds/Alliemoo
Summary: Evelyn, Warrior of Light returns from the First victorious. She and her friends savor a long needed rest. Except, Evelyn can’t rest. She turns and tosses in her sleep, plagued by memories she’d rather forget. Her sleep deprivation starts to show, and her friends try to understand. But how does she explain that she’s tired of her title, tired of the war and bloodshed? While reality and Illusion start to blur she truly starts to wonder if her friend and confidant has really passed. Who would have thought that the Warrior of light would need to keep more than one secret.
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch & Warrior of Light, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Original Character(s), Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 48
Kudos: 130





	1. It's just a Headache

**Author's Note:**

> Let's try this one more time with better... everything. Thank you Lycelle for editing my work and giving me that extra push I needed to feel confidant in this fanfiction business.

Evelyn scurried through the dark streets of Ul’dah. There was distant chatter and only the sound of her footsteps echoing off high walls. The dancers were out, moving their feet to a faint beat of tambourines and drums. She only had the moon and the dimly lit lamps as her guide through the winding roads. She felt a gust of wind hit her back. Evelyn gripped her hood tightly, waiting for the weather to pass. She had forgotten that while it was heated during the day, it was windy at night in the desert. 

The Warrior of Light had finally returned after a long journey. Word did not stop at the walls of Mor Dhona. In no time the Alliance had requested her presence as soon as she was able. Evelyn pushed through the doors and entered a lit hallway, the ground covered in red carpet. The cackling of fire calmed her otherwise beating heart. For Evelyn was here for only one reason, and her intentions were nothing but selfish. The Elezen woman pulled down her hood, revealing stark red locks of hair and forest green eyes, a streak of white running over green in her left orb. Her skin was kissed by moonlight, pale covered in a few white scales down her neck.

She should have turned around, should have left them with the goldsmith. Pawn them off, _‘don’t worry, I won’t be missing it.'_ Well, that was what the Warrior should have said. After all, her greatest enemy yet was now dead, and now she could worry about other things that might occupy the Source. Evelyn found that even the mere thought had caused her a ilm of concern. She couldn’t find herself thinking about Garlemald or the city states. Instead her mind turned to darker thoughts, things that she’d rather not think or even less repeat out loud. 

What would the Scions say? Evelyn could hear the blood pump in her ears, it sounded like an empty cavern. What would they find under a facade so carefully placed for years? What would this one act of selfishness bring? She found that her hand was on the large wooden door, ready to push it open, to receive what she had requested? Her body betrayed her. The warrior’s bandaged hand began to tremble under the pressure. 

“Stop it.” She muttered, her brows knitting together with concern. “You did this, you asked for this. You have no way of backing down now.” It sounded more of a pep talk for a battle rather than to muster up the courage to pick up her piece of jewelry. Evelyn took a deep breath, and willed her heart to still. No need for those pesky feelings, they only got in the way.

Evelyn found herself in the goldsmith’s guild. The room was bright, hammers and pliers hanging from the wall below the small balcony she stood on. Tables were littered with bits of metal and gems. To her right was a display case of recent works, anything that a merchant would be able to procure. To her left was the desk where the guild receptionist took time to finish her paperwork. Behind her were boxed up pieces with names pinned into the velvet of the boxes she displayed. 

Evelyn faintly gleaned her order. She could see her name in bold script. An alias name. Something dull that no one would think twice about. Evelyn didn’t care for the attention when she was running a simple errand. People liked to call her over, ask for favors that she was more than willing to help with. It was her wont. Lately however, Evelyn began to grow ever more tired at their requests. She stumbled over words, found it hard to hold her enthusiasm for a small adventure here and there. Lately, the Warrior of light simply wanted to sleep. To fall into a dreamless sleep where the shadows lie. Evelyn flinched. She shouldn’t be thinking of shadows at a time like this. Not when she could taste the aether pooling in that box. She couldn’t explain it but she could sense it. 

“I have an order.” 

The Lalafel looked up from her paperwork. She wore a simple white cotton dress, a light pink sweater placed over it. Her eyes were a deep lush brown and her hair was colored a pale blonde. 

“Your name, madam?” She placed her quill down and rested her eyes on Evelyn’s. 

“Mariel.” She looked like a Mariel, or so she hoped. 

“Ah yes, you were the woman with the strangely colored shards. The goldsmith went a little mad I think.” 

Mad? Over what? Evelyn could only wonder. “Any type of rare gem he instantly wants to dissect it like it was a living, breathing, organism.” 

“He didn’t!” Oh Twelve, what was she thinking turning auracite into jewelry! 

“No, no of course not, you asked for it not to be tempered with, we follow a strict policy.” 

Evelyn let out a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding. She rested a hand against her chest to once again calm her ever beating heart. The Lalafel just raised a brow, but she turned and hopped off her seat to grab what was most precious to her. Evelyn waited with bated breath as the Lalafel placed the box on the counter and pulled on dainty gloves. 

“Now, you asked for them not to be altered so don’t complain if they look unbecoming.” The receptionist opened the velvet box to reveal what Evelyn had been waiting for for nigh on three weeks. She found something hard in her throat, her eyes burning. There they were in all his faded glory. Fluorescent violet auracite stared back at her. 

‘Ah, there’s a sight to bring a tear to the eye.’ Evelyn shook her head, pushing that damn voice in the back of her conscience where it belonged. 

“May I?” Evelyn’s voice trembled.

“Of course.” 

Evelyn took the box in her cupped hands, cradling it like it would break further if she wasn’t careful. Who was she kidding she really would break them if she wasn’t careful. Her eyes rested on her bandaged hand. They grew dark momentarily but it was only brief. All that was left were shards, pieces of a man who once felt far too much, and sacrificed nearly everything in his path. He was evil, manipulated situations, empires rose and fell at his feet. He planted seeds of chaos wherever he so chose to step. Evelyn had to use every ounce of her strength to keep her mind in check, to keep her body from visibly crumpling there on the ground. For she was the Warrior of Light, a pillar of hope in a fleeting world of men. 

“Madam are you okay? Is it not to your liking?” The Lalafel jumped foot to foot, her arms flailing gently to and fro. 

Evelyn tilted her head, and noticed the brush of tears that slid down her face. She caught the wetness with her bandaged thumb but it didn’t stop whatever had come over her. ‘Not again.’ Evelyn thought, _‘How humiliating.’_ He was an Ascian, nothing more than that. Evelyn should hate him with every fiber of her being. But all she wanted to do in that moment was scream at him. 

“I’m fine, I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” Evelyn pulled a pouch of coins from her leather belt. She placed them on the table with a dull thud. 

“Thank you for your time. They look beautiful.” She closed the box and put it in a pouch at her thigh. He was always rather easy on the eyes when he bothered to smile, when his gold orbs softened her way. That crooked smile always caught her off guard. Twelve only knew why. It was the self-same question she asked when her body trembled at the sight of anything that brought up a stray memory. 

Damn him. 

Evelyn didn’t waste time to leave. She made quick footwork out from the Goldsmith’s and back into the corridor. She was alone, without company. She found a small alcove between two pillars. She tucked herself into that niche. Evelyn pulled her hood back up over her face, her tears falling unbidden and cruel. Traitor body, she thought. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. Evelyn pushed the balls of her hands against her eyes. She slid down the pillar and onto the ground. Her dark boots hit a solid wall. Evelyn bit her lip to keep from making a noise. That would have only made her more pathetic. 

“Come now, he was an Ascian, there was no working yourself around it. He had to die. He had to, dammit!” She hissed under her breath, willing her strength back. 

Minutes passed, but Evelyn felt like it was hours. She took a resolute deep breath, then a few more for good measure. Evelyn reached for the velvet box and opened it back up. She had asked the goldsmith to make the posts with gold shaped diamonds. Evelyn was a sentimental fool. A smile had suddenly graced her lips. He was too, he just never said it. Evelyn bid her time. She slowly took her old earrings out. Neo-Ishgaridan and not nearly as close to the beauty she so desired in her hands. Another memory passed her, one more carnal. It would be a blatant lie for her to say it meant nothing. There was a spark between them, but whatever it was Evelyn still struggled to understand. 

Evelyn carefully placed her new pieces of jewelry in her ears and shoved her old ones in the velvet box. Evelyn caressed the shards gently between her fingers. They were warm to the touch, still brimming with leftover aether. Thancred would be furious if he spotted them. After all no one was aware that Evelyn, the Warrior of Light, had taken Emet-Selch, an Ascian, back home. Not that she could say that she did really. She only brought home the left over pieces of his auracite. They were fragments of a man who was once even more whole than she. Evelyn took out a small pocket mirror and deigned to look at her reflection. There were bags under her eyes and she took to a paler color than what she should be comfortable with. Her eyes were slightly red from her crying. It made them stand out and therefore brought more attention to her lackluster appearance. The Warrior of Light, halfway to collapsing after returning from the First, a lovely fleeting moment in her otherwise disastrous life. Evelyn picked herself up from the solid ground and willed herself to move onward to tomorrow. 

It was dark when Evelyn returned to the Rising Stones in Mor Dhona. There was that strange hue of gloom over their heads once more. It covered the brightness of the moon, locked it away from letting its light shine down upon her. The clack of cobble echoed in her ears, the distant laughter in the background faint and unimportant. She could scarcely concentrate on something so trivial now. Mor Dhona had been occupied by far more adventurers than she cared to remember. There were mages trading secrets, dragoons coming down from Coerthas for new sport, paladins looking to barge their way through a mob of creatures they had yet to gain a prize from. Evelyn found herself wanting for a lick of that nostalgia, something completely mundane and normal.

What would it be like to not have to fight war after bloody war, to not have to watch the people she loved cut down so callously. Evelyn frowned, tired as she was she couldn’t continue down this train of thought. Still, she found herself sagging, her shoulders hunched like the world had decided its favorite place in her lap. Evelyn made a noise of frustration. She raised her arms slowly, theatrical and over dramatic. 

“Come now hero, ‘tis not a face I would expect you to wear. Off you go onto the next warden.” Evelyn made a movement that resembled someone shooing a child away. 

“Evelyn? Are you well?” 

Evelyn turned a little too quickly. Her hood fell from her face, revealing embarrassment, and nothing short of shock. “Um, well—” She stumbled over her words, as was a habit she had achieved in the last few months. A burden to be sure. 

Alisaie turned her head and began to laugh. Her blue eyes danced with mirth and her smile seemed almost soothing in a way. Her white locks of hair were braided tight and in place. She was holding a bag of food from the market not far from the square where they had met. “A fairly good impression, not half bad.” 

Evelyn laughed a little herself, though her heart wasn’t in it. “Well, he did have his charm occasionally.” 

“In your opinion. The only urge I had was to smack the sass out of him.” Alisaie shrugged. It wasn’t completely unwarranted after all. “I was just returning from the market. F’lhaminn put me to work, since things are so calm right now.” 

Evelyn didn’t reply right away. Though her impression did little to raise her spirits, they were again called into question. What would she do to distract herself until their plans for the empire came into fruition? Her waking thoughts were already muddled and far off. Her subconscious planted seeds of doubt with every nightmare she had. Evelyn hadn’t known what a good night's rest was since her return from the First. It wasn’t just like any nightmare either. Whereas the stray thought of, say, Yasayle brought her dreams. These nightmares offered insight into Amaurot. They showed her Emet-Selch and the hole in his chest. Every time she woke up she felt her own burn. There were times where the image of him was foreign and blurry, but he always leaked the same ichor. He bled out black from his eyes, his lips. His choking could echo in her ears for hours before she woke up, before she felt like she could move again. When she finally had the feeling in her fingers she would reach out for her shelf behind her bed. She would open that box, the one that no one knew about and she would sigh in relief. The shards would be there, fluorescent, flickering with what was left of the aether that she could call his. 

She had never known a color to calm her so. It was why she turned the shards of his auracite into something she could carry with her. It wasn’t just a momento of her latest mistake, it was for comfort, for her only semblance of peace since returning. As the days passed Evelyn found it hard to leave them in her room forgotten. She already felt like she was forgetting something as it was. 

“Evelyn!” 

The reverie died and Evelyn found herself back in Mor Dhona, had she ever left? Evelyn rubbed her eyes. “I’m sorry Alisaie, I’ve been rather tired lately. Focusing is a mighty challenge.” 

Alisaie’s light expression turned downward. “Are you sure you’re okay? Have you slept?” 

“Some, I’m going to need to see an apothecary soon enough.” By the time the two reached Seventh Heaven the discussion was left for a later date. 

Alisaie opened the heavy wooden door to the Rising Stones. Evelyn relaxed about an ilm. There weren’t a lot of them left but at least they were good people with good intentions. She played with a small fern to her left, rubbing it absently. The atmosphere was warm and safe. Far away from the problems of the world at its current state. Riol laughed at a joke, throwing his head back as Arenvald smacked him in the back a little too hard. Riol nearly choked on his ale. When was the last she had a drink with Thancred? She’d have to drag him out when he returned. 

Evelyn pushed off her perch but paused. She blinked several times, suddenly dizzy. She pinched the bridge of her nose, but it didn’t leave her, instead it only grew worse, a sudden jolt of pain breaking through her temple. The last thing she remembered was her world tilting on its head.   



	2. The Color of a Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again Lycelle for your continued support in my endeavors. I took time, this took far too much time out of my day cause I wondered how many lines I was gonna steal. But here's some Emet musing. lolz Have fun.

Emet-Selch learned long ago that man would indeed create his own downfall. Living by this moral he often stayed in the shadows, watching events unfold and slowly turn for the worst. The architect might have commented here and there, created an empire just to cause more chaos, and yes, at one point dipped his fingers into the Allagan empire and treated it as his birthright. Watching the Warrior of Light however had him wanting to take a long nap. Elidibus had warned him to keep an eye on her. That she was naught to be taken lightly. Ascian-slayer, eikon-slayer, it didn’t matter which titles she took. Inevitably, she was still mortal. She could die, much as it pained him. Their interactions had been curt and to the point, she was not in the mind to take him up for company. Or so he thought. 

When was it that they started their waltz? When had they pressed their hands together to move in their slow languid circle? When was the first stone cast? Was it his steely gaze that pulled her in or was it the fire in her that took his soul in a vice? Emet-Selch’s memory didn’t deign him with an answer. No instead his thoughts turned to Rak’tika. Emet-Selch remembered the large canopies, sin eaters light glittering through brown dying leaves. The birds echoed in his ears, and the rush of ragged flags tied to old tree branches faintly moved in the distance. 

The Warrior of Light took the mantle in her hands and deigned to save this dying world. The Exarch’s words were no laughing matter, should the Warrior of Light stay in the Source she would die. Emet-Selch wasn’t far from believing her demise imminent. The people would cry, _‘Our Hero is dead, we are lost!’_ The words would be a balm to his weary soul. But as he watched the Warrior run around Rak’tika, his sight began to betray him. He began to notice her soul. The light of Hydaelen still tried to snuff out her color, that dark space glittering with colors he yet could never name. He of course would not be fooled into believing a notion such as her soul returning or ever being present in a husk such as the Warrior, this Evelyn. 

As time went on however, he began to notice other habits. She would wander aimlessly under the large trees of Fanow, following the vibrant blue path of flowers and just take in the earth around her. She would lean against the trunk of a tree and fashion crowns out of the fauna that grew rather well under lights domain. Sometimes she would look out and doze for a moment, left alone to her thoughts. All of this spied by Emet-Selch who preferred he stay to the shadows. Occasionally he would have the urge to reach out and pluck a flower from her ear. He would say something reasonably rude, and under all the pretense and riddles he would be glad to be next to that dark storm of her soul, to be washed away by it and never come back. The feelings came unbidden, he seethed every time he could sense her in his presence. To the move of her practiced fingers in battle to the tilt of her head when in thought, he simply could not get her out of his head. Whatever power the Warrior had over him, he began to regret his offer of cooperation. 

It was a day when he felt himself particularly tired of watching his little Warrior. He found a perch of a rather large tree, rested his hands behind his head and closed his eyes for a well needed nap. Elidibus, ever vigilant in his duties did wake him up. It was a shame. This was how he found himself to be standing in front of the Hero. He barely paid attention to the others but he did pay attention to the Warrior, specifically how her lips moved when she spoke. A grand tale about how her mage friend had fallen into a carven and seemingly disappeared without a trace. The gunbreaker’s circuits seemed to click into place. 

The warrior took on an appearance of someone who had lost far to much, crestfallen as she was she could only sigh, and the moon slowly started to ooze out and infect everyone in its path. Did he really want to arm them with their mage? He could simply let her go adrift in the aetherial river and be done with it. Emet-Selch frowned. He sighed, loud and audible. 

He was starting to feel his age again. “Oh… Very well I’ll go fetch her.” He wasn’t doing this for her. This was just another means to end. “Perhaps a clear and unambiguous act of kindness will serve to win the trust you seem so happy to deny me.” He shrugged, his arms up in that typical dramatic fashion. 

The following conversation followed, and Emet-Selch couldn’t decide rather to laugh or to scoff. Here was the hero, looking at him like he had grown to heads.

“So you want me to go out into the forest.” She stated. 

“Yes.” Emet-Slch replied. 

“To find the strongest resonance to the Lifestream.” Evelyn looked fit to burst and pull her hair out. 

“Yes.” Emet-Selch crossed his arms. Was this going somewhere?” 

“In the middle of a forest that’s most likely malms wide.” 

Emet-Selch came to the conclusion that the warrior thought she was going to be out looking for hours. While he was positive she thought the time taken was worth the cause, there was something in her eyes that bespoke a certain exhaustion. 

“Do you take issue with that?” the gunblade asked.

“No, of course not. But it’s not like I have something to find this location the ascian speaks of.” Evelyn crossed her arms. 

“Fear not hero, I have just the thing.” Emet-Selch snapped his fingers, a lamp appearing between a elegantly gloved hand. It glowed faintly and Evelyn couldn’t stop the curiosity that swept over her. “An aetherial lamp, of my own design.” He took the credit with grace. 

The hero looked at him as if he’d swipe her over the head with it. Was there no ilm of trust left in her? Emet-Selch raised a brow, but slowly surely, the warrior took the handle of the lamp reluctantly. Her hand passed over his. He could feel a sharp ripple run up his arm. Emet-Selch stiffened, and as his instincts were called to attention he pulled the handle back, dragging the warrior with him. Evelyn attempted to pull away but Emet-Selch gripped her slender hand in his own. He savored the moment, watching the scions behind them reach for their weapons, fingers twitching in anticipation of his next move. Evelyn locked her emerald gaze against his own golden orbs. That fire came roaring to life and he would have gladly let her take him in its heated embrace. He finally lowered himself to her height, a languid smirk appearing on his lips. 

“Keep it close as you venture out into the woods. The brighter the glow, the stronger the locations resonance is with the Lifestream.” He could feel the visible shiver that ran up her back. His warrior wasn’t as strong as she seemed. “Once you’ve found a likely spot, all you need do is whistle.” Evelyn’s jaw clenched. “You do know how to whistle, don’t you, hero? Just put your lips together, and blow.” Finally, the elezen’s cheeks turned red. Emet-Selch let her go and she found herself stumbling back from the force.

“Carry on.” Emet-Selch took his leave for the void. 

Emet-Selch chuckled. the look on her face, how it crumbled at first contact. Warrior of not she still had a woman’s heart. He felt her jolt, watched her squirm beneath his touch. Her soul had suggested something different however. Perhaps his stay in the First won’t be as boring as he once thought. 

  
Emet-Selch crossed his arms, watching her walk through the forest of large canopies. The light didn’t reach this part of the forest. He was thankful for that much at least, less strenuous on his eyes, far more darker places to lurk, wonderful trees to sleep in. Emet-Selch’s eyes slide back to the warrior. She took her time, once again soaking in the beauty of The Rak’tika Greatwoods. She watched her lamp closely, the metal clanking gently under the noise of wildlife. There was a gently ‘Oh’ that left her lips. She placed the lamp on the lush ground beneath her, the lamp casting like over her elegant features. Emet-Selch wondered if the warrior truly knew how to whistle? She took her thumb and pinky between her fingers and inhaled deeply. The noise that left her lips shrilled high in his ears. Emet-Selch rested a hand over his ears and grimaced. He took that as his cue to make himself known. 

“Hero, must you whistle so loudly?” 

Evelyn’s eyes rested on his. “You told me to whistle.” Evelyn shrugged. She collected the lamp from the ground and looked over the craftsmanship for only a moment. “It’s a beautiful lamp. The craftsmanship is flawless.” She held it out for Emet-Selch to take.

Emet-Selch scoffed. “Of course it is, I made it after all.” 

“Twelve, can’t you take a compliment without sounding like an swiving bastard?” 

“Tut, tut, such a mouth, one wonders how you’ve managed this far.” 

Evelyn rolled her eyes, then asked something completely off subject. “What was that?” Evelyn chose her words carefully. She crossed her arms and steadied her gaze on the ascian. 

“What was what, my dear?” Emet-Selch played coy.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about Ascian.”

“Oh, you mean our moment?” His voice dripped with a mix of mirth and sarcasm.

“Don’t call it that.” Evelyn pointed out. “It wasn’t a moment it was…” She trailed off. 

Emet-Selch smirked, “Yes my dear, do go on.” 

Emet-Selch never did hear her answer. The Scions had appeared only a moment later. A pity, he almost looked forward to an answer. Instead of that one instance he took himself to concentrating at the task at hand. He outstretched his hand pointing out at the location where the Lifestream was at its strongest. He watched strips of color flow by him, all waiting to return to their otherwise sundered forms. They always looked like rainbows, twisting and turning in beautiful flurries of aether. 

“Now what was the color of her soul again?” Emet-Selch closed his eyes for only a moment. “Ah, there you are.” He snapped his fingers, light collecting at the point where the Lifestream was strongest. 

“By the crystal…” Evelyn muttered. Was that a sense of awe he heard in her voice. 

Emet-Selch snapped his fingers once more, her clothes returning to her in a matter of moments. The reunion was touching, it nearly brought a tear to his eye, nearly. Evelyn chastised her mage friend but before she could even finish her lecture the Hrothgar had picked up the mage and turned her happily within his arms. A touching reunion indeed. Still Emet-Selch rolled his eyes. 

He cleared his throat. “Is there aught you wish to say to me? A word of thanks, perhaps?” The astrologian explained briefly what had transpired. 

The mage hummed, “I see, differences notwithstanding I am thankful.” 

The Scions went ahead, leaving Emet-Selch and his little warrior alone, for the time being. She took a deep breath of relief. It was as if she was holding it in this entire time, waiting for the perfect moment to relax. Again, there was that mixture of exhaustion that came over her. It was barely there under the surface. 

“What a touching reunion.” 

Another scoff from the warrior. “Yes, I’m sure.” 

“Back to more important matters. You never answered my question.” Emet-Selch pointed out. 

“I didn’t think I wasn’t deigned to give you one Ascian.” 

“Are you always so uptight? You’re beginning to bore me.” 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware I was the entertainment for your otherwise dull and boring life.” Evelyn sat down on the ground, before resting her head, looking up at the large canopies above. “You want to talk, I want to change the subject.” 

“I don’t—” Emet-Selch began. 

“Oh please, you would have retreated to the shadows if you didn’t want to talk. So sit and get comfortable, my legs are killing me.” 

“Such is mortal limitations.” Emet-Selch took a seat on the ground. Why did it feel as though he was transported back in a time before time? Ah, yes, this is what they used to do after long days hard at work. They would look up toward the stars in a garden of her own making. Such was a comfortable life. “So you won’t answer my question. So what would you have me talk about. Do you want a bedtime story of eld?”

“Not in the least, I have a feeling you’ll spin it in your favor, Ascian. No, I want to ask about souls.” She closed her eyes, her shoulders relaxing considerably. It made little sense to Emet-Selch, after all he could kill her now while she was unaware. 

“What about them?” Emet-Selch rested an arm on his knee, looking out into the distance. 

“You said you could see the color, I’m a tad curious.” The warrior tuned onto her abdomen and rested a hand under her chin. 

“Every soul has a color, you’re not even exempt from that rule.”

“Oh?” She smiled, not at him but perhaps at the thought. “Then what color is mine?” 

Emet-Selch just looked at her, a brief, fleeting moment passed where his facade did falter. He could still see the edges of iridescent within a void, in all consuming white, he could see every ilm of her. He turned his head as soon as he noticed her eyes flutter. “Your mother’s blessing makes it most hard to distinguish if you even still have a color.” 

“That is a shame.” Evelyn picked herself up from the ground and looked his way. “Should I take a gander at yours then?” 

What was this farce? Was this something to make him more comfortable so she could pierce him with her lance? Oh, she would like that, the little savage that she was. His great grandson had explained as much. “Why?” He narrowed his gaze suspiciously. 

“Curiosity. I may hate you, but you are the first of Ascians to even speak to us like a normal human being. Instead of ‘I must bring about the balance betwixt light and darkness, you are the cause warrior of light, damn you.’” 

“So I intrigue you?” Interesting, very interesting, he wasn’t expecting this turn of events. 

“On a purely business standpoint.” She mentioned rather curtly. 

Emet-Selch frowned, “Fine, take your guess. I have very low expectations, in this case.”

Evelyn sat back up, taking a place in front of him. She concentrated on his chocolate colored brown hair, a singular strand of forelock stark like a bad memory. She took in the gold of his eyes, his thin lips and the curve of his neck with he assumed was considerable fascination. She knitted her brows together. 

“Warrior if you wanted to admire my striking looks you could have just said so.” He fanned himself dramatically. 

“Oh, do shut up.” Evelyn bit her lip. “Florescent.” 

Emet-Selch was taken aback. “W-what?” Did he stumble over a word?

“Florescent, plum, violet, lilac. You remind me of a florescent purple.” 

There was no rhyme behind her answer, no reason but she had nailed it on the head. Emet-Selch silently cursed to himself. Decided that now was the time to collect his racing thoughts, he stood up and patted down his skirts. “I am not florescent.” He seethed. “What a disappointment.” 

Evelyn followed suit and raised a brow. “I did say gander, I didn’t say I’d be right.” 

‘Good.’ Emet-Selch thought. She believed him. He hoped it was the only lie he’d have to tell her in the coming events. “Well hero don’t you have somewhere to be? Preparing to fight a lightwarden or some such?” He waved his hand dismissively. 

“You would be right.” A smile played at her lips, as if she had learned some valuable information. He didn’t like that expression that played across her face.

“I am retiring to the shadows for a long overdue rest. You are exhausting.” He allowed himself to be taken by the plume of darkness, hoping insult covered the measure of shock he was feeling in that moment. Damn the vaunted warrior of light. 


	3. From Memory or Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I proof-read this by myself. Hope it's at least okay to get through. I wanna try and do past present thing. Just to show off the conversations between the two, how Evelyn got to where she was and how their relationship developed. I think that's really important. I hope I didn't totally bomb anything? Anyway enjoy the latest chapter.

Evelyn found herself stuck in another nightmare. She was back in Amaurot, running, attempting to flee the creatures that took to destruction and blood letting. She could feel the heat against her skin, the sweat sliding down her forehead. The smoke burned her lungs but her feet kept on moving forward. The sky was tinted red and orange. The screaming echoed in her ears, shrill and heavy on her heart. It wasn’t the worst of it of course, there was another noise, much higher in tone. It screeched, forcing her to cover her ears. Whatever it was it caused a large crack in the streets of Amaurot. Her footing slipped, and Evelyn could feel herself falling. 

“What are you doing we need to leave.” There was a vice like grip in her wrist. A man with a mask, wearing black robes. 

Go? Where was there to go? Everything and everyone was breaking or dying. She had the sinking feeling of helplessness here. She wanted to say something, but anything that she wanted to say quietly died on her lips. 

_‘All that was left was an achingly familiar world.’_ Who’s voice was that again? Her gaze could only rest on the end result. What in the world happened? 

“We have to go!” Evelyn was taken, running down the streets of Amaurot with a man she scarcely knew. 

They turned corners, her hand in his, dragging her through fire and dodging collapsing buildings. The fear finally started to grip her. Was she going to die here? There was another loud screech. Evelyn’s head felt like it was going to split in two, the pain rippled through her temples. She had taken a pause, her legs burning, her lungs burning, her vision blurring. Evelyn heard a click from her captor. He took her in his arms, concentrating his aether to jump high into the sky. His hood blew off harshly, revealing stark silver locks of hair. Evelyn could only think to run her fingers through it. Even if the world was burning she thought that simple gesture would calm her. All she could hope is to be close to him. Evelyn narrowed her eyes, then stiffened. 

“Watch out!” The massive feathered bird dived downward and opened its maw. Saliva dripped down its jaw in rivulets, eyes wide and vicious. The silver haired man worked quickly, raising a hand towards the creature. Violet spearheads appeared over it, shooting down at the bird with ease. It left the thing to spiral and crash into the streets of Amaurot. Evelyn blinked, she knew that magic, she knew him. 

“Emet-Selch?” she breathed out. Somewhere buried deep in the darkness, another name echoed in her head. One that hadn’t left her lips in a long time “Hades!” Evelyn gripped his robe, eyes suddenly frantic. 

  
Evelyn shot up from her bed, perspiration gracing her forehead. Her hair was mess of red. She breathed, like she hadn’t been able to in the last hour. She gripped her chest, tears pooling in the corner of her eyes. She was back in her room, looking frantically for a moment she could grasp onto. Her fingers trembled, her eyes wide. Slowly, she grasped her arms, fingers making small crescents in her skin. She hissed, feeling the sting of her left clawed had. The golden tips were marred with her blood. Damn this limb. It wasn’t enough that she had to fight for a completely star but she also had to transform partially into that of a a monster. Stasis was not fun. Someone had taken of her bandages, she wasn’t sure if she was thankful or just angry.Her thoughts turned back to her nightmare. It was anything but normal. Evelyn had nightmares but nothing so — real. Evelyn took the small box from her shelf and opened it frantically. The pieces were still there, ebbing faintly. Evelyn closed it once more, resting her forehead against the soft wood. 

“You had to leave me with so many questions. It’s not fair, you swiving bastard.” She wasn’t aware how long she sat there. The pieces of Emet-selch’s auracite were the only things keeping her grounded to reality. 

There was a faint knock on the door and a mutter of words that still sounded incoherent. Slowly, she pushed the box back in its place, staring longingly at it for only a moment. “Evelyn? You’re finally awake, thank the Gods.” 

Alisaie stood there with a pitcher in hand. There was a chair pulled up to her bed, indicating that she hadn’t been alone in her fitful sleep. The younger elezen placed a pitcher of water and an empty cup at her bedside table. “We were rather worried, it’s not everyday that the Warrior of Light just collapses.” 

Of course, the Warrior of Light not Evelyn. Still, Evelyn smiled and put that careful facade back up in place of her distress. She couldn’t be anything but strong in this case. “Sorry, perhaps it was the lack of sleep. I’m doing fine now.” She threw her bare legs off the bed, the cold ground welcome in her otherwise shaky state of mind. 

“Somehow I think not.” Alisaie commented. Her gaze rested on Evelyn’s clawed hand, white, with golden veins running up her arm. 

Evelyn frowned, gripping her arm as if she didn’t notice. “What makes you say so?”

“Are you sure you’re well. Evelyn you’ve been through so much the past few years. It’s completely normal for it all to catch up to you. I know it does me. Or could it be…” Alisaie’s gaze slid to the window. “The transformation, or the First?” She began to wring her hands nervously. It made Evelyn wonder how much she heard escape her lips. 

“No. It was just a nightmare, I barely remember it.” That was a lie, she remembered far to much. 

The creatures in particular were horrendously frightening. What really stuck out like a sore thumb, however, was Emet-Selch’s billowy silver locks. Another memory pervaded her thoughts, one of fingers through soft tresses of hair, of stupid laughter and hidden grins underneath a sheet. Emet-Selch made her swear not to tell anyone that he could smile. It was a wonder he could in her company at all. Evelyn shook her head. A cup of water was passed her way. It was then that she realized how dry her throat was. Evelyn took it in her good hand and drank up the entire cup. She should go visit the First, it had been a long few months. With how things were going on the border she doubted she was needed here for very much longer. Evelyn stretched her shoulders, a loud resounding crack echoing in her chambers. She twisted her neck and pressed down her knuckles afterward. She couldn’t say that she hated the expression that came over Alisaie. She flinched. Evelyn did after all have many cracks to ease out, over her time in battle. 

“I think it’s time I go visit the First. Nothing is happening on the border at the moment.” There wasn’t a distraction from her thoughts. 

“How many moons has it been?” Alisaie thought out loud. 

“Far to many.” Evelyn said to herself more then Alisaie. 

She picked up a set of bandages and a few articles of clothing forgotten on a dresser next to her bed. Evelyn took a step behind her screen. She often used it when she had company, otherwise it was there for a drapery for her dirty clothes more then anything. She threw her shift off and over the screen before taking the roll of bandages and beginning to wrap her arm up, with fumbling fingers. It took a finesse she still didn’t have. Waking up in the morning and doing the same trivial movements were exhausting, but she somehow managed to wrap the claws up decently enough they wouldn’t tear anything. She threw a black set of trousers and shirt on, before strapping her armor on. She then took one of her many ties to pull her hair back in a tight bun.

“Those are new?” Alisaie commented once Evelyn came out.

Evelyn’s finger found the small piece of jewelry. “I had them made a few weeks ago, It’s where I was coming back from yesterday.” 

“Oh! Your errand. I didn’t think you took an interest in making jewelry.” 

“Oh, twelve no, I’m horrible at it.” She wouldn't admit that she spent quite a bit of her savings turning Emet-Selch into a piece of jewelry. She fumbled with the piece in her ear absently. This was starting to become a nervous habit.

“But the gold smith in Ul’dah is well known throughout the lands.” She laughed nervously. She needed someone with practiced fingers so as not to damage the shards. 

“How much gil do you exactly have?” Alisaie’s face turned to disbelief. 

“I had a lot more before Doma.” She muttered. “I try and keep my expenses sparse, but I thought…” She ran a finger over one of her several lances. “I thought it was important to get these done.” Her eyes glanced at the box hidden in the shadows of her shelf. If only they knew. “Anyway, off I go.” She took a long sharp lance and spun it between her fingers briefly. She sheathed it behind her, the heavy weapon resting at her back.

“Evelyn wait…” Alisaie tried to stop Evelyn but she just ignored her, walking out into the hall and out of the Rising Stones. “Why in all of Eorzea were you calling out Emet-Selch’s name?” What in the world had happened between the First and now? 

Evelyn found herself in the ferryman’s boat. Her fingers grazed the clear waters of Silver Tear. Broken Garlean airships jutted from the ground and the vast amounts of crystals glowed faintly in the distance. The same gloom settled over the land like a curse. She looked to her right and watched as the shadow of Midgardsomar look over Mor Dhona. She wondered if she could still speak to him? Evelyn took him as a dragon that would only bear his presence should the need arise. Evelyn sighed, and rested her chin on the ledge of the boat. What was she going to do in the First? Mope, grieve, scream? Was there a point in grieving at all for Emet-Selch’s loss? For what she lost? Evelyn bit her lip, her fingers worrying the florescent auracite. 

She had to scoff. When she had picked up the pieces of his soul she found that the color in question is as she guessed back in Rak’tika. That felt so long ago now. Moments would stay momentary, they never lasted. “What a liar.” 

Evelyn’s eyes fluttered, about to close for the rest of the ride, but something caught in the corner of her eye. Tumbling from the sky was fire, it spread out over Eorzea, toppling spires crashing to the ground, echoing in her ears as loud as the screeching. She pulled the ferryman down and the boat jolting slightly. “Stay down!” 

“What in seven hells are ya doin’” 

“What do you mean? Can’t you—” She looked back up towards the sky and saw gloom, she saw Midgardsomer’s shadow staring back at her as if nothing had ever happened. Her breath caught in her lungs, she could feel blood pooling at her lip. “See it?” Where had the fire gone, what of the spires? Another headache rippled through her temples. She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Sorry, lack of sleep.” Had it gotten so bad that her nightmares were blending with reality? 

The ferryman clicked his tongue but said no more. When they reached the shore Evelyn took out her coin purse. “Do you mind,” She began. “Not telling anyone about this?” The question was asked in between embarrassment and horror.

“It’ll cost ya’ extra.” He held out his hand.

Evelyn groaned, “Fine.” She took a few more coins and placed them in his hand. Evelyn took a tentative step off the boat and onto solid ground. She made her way past the singular tree the branches bare against the elements. She sighed, but continued her way through the arch were Sycrus Trench lie. 

“Mistress Evelyn? Are you visiting the First?” It was one of the few permanent Ironwork members that were to stay stationed at the Crystal Tower. 

“For a while.” She was given her beacon. She concentrated on it, the world falling slowly away from her. Snippets of her life following behind her. Yhe blue light of transference glittered, turning brighter and brighter until finally she found her feet back on solid ground. Lakeland’s sky was as clear as ever. Its violet trees blowing in the wind gently. Rising mountains and cliffs stretched beyond Lakeland and the Crystarium. The lack of lush grass was still fairly noticeable, but there were a few stray flowers sprouting up in its place. 

Evelyn almost felt a sense of belonging. Surely there had to be a distraction available here. Perhaps G’raha could give her an errand or two? The Empty was still occupied by Ryne’s efforts and Eulmore was still rebuilding, or so she imagined. 

“I thought I felt a tug in the rift.” G’raha was already at the gates, a bright smile on his features. His hair was as dark as his Allagan eyes. He was always so happy to see her. His tail, little to his knowledge always twitched, just as his ears did in anticipation. “What do I owe the pleasure my friend?” 

Friend, she liked that term. It made her feel more human than she cared to admit. “A small visit, I was wondering if I could lend a hand? The Empire is rather quiet as of late.” 

“Of course, I would be more then happy to give you something to do. You look like you need it.” G’raha bid Evelyn to follow him. 

The Crystarium looked well, people chattering and laughing. It was a different sight from the first she arrived on the abandoned star. “As I recall, I’ve been receiving reports in Kholusia about a small group of unhappy Eulmoreans. They don’t appreciate the recent policy changes, things have started getting out of hand.” 

“So whack a few people take in the ring master behind it question him for further locations of possible hideaways?” She muttered. 

“You have the right of it. We want to make sure the people of Eulmore are safe. If the Warrior of Darkness is here it should ease their minds.” 

“Of course.” She wanted to pull her hair out. “Let me get settled.”

“The manager will be happy to have you again.” 

As it turned out, the manager had given her the same room. Evelyn dropped her bags. There were to many bitter memories in here. The table reminded her of coffee and conversation. The bed reminded her of nights curled up with warmth she invited. There was a moment where she even combed out his hair one day. It felt so natural, and not. She had slept with her enemy, eaten at his table, and worse yet, spoke to him as an equal. No matter how many times that she reminded herself he was an Ascian, it all flew out the window the moment his eyes met hers. Evelyn heard the door finally shut behind her. She grabbed the pitcher on the table and poured a glass of water. Evelyn took the liquid greedily between her lips. Why did the rift always dehydrate her? 

Evelyn rubbed her eyes and yawned. She took one glance in the vanity and frowned. She had never looked so exhausted in her life. It was becoming increasingly more noticeable. She fought off another yawn. It was no wonder people began to ask if she was well. She couldn’t go out fighting like this either.

“Oh my, Hero, you’re looking worse for wear.” 

Evelyn turned stiff as a board, a chill ran up her back and her fingers twitched, nearly breaking her bandages then and there. Slowly she gazed into the mirror. A reflection of his image. His golden eyes piercing straight through her soul. Her flight or fight instincts kicked in. She took one of her various knifes in her hand and aimed for his chest. He was gone the moment she had hit her mark. Her hand began to shake and her grip failed her, the knife clattering to the ground. He’s dead, Evelyn thought. “He’s dead, and gone, he will never be a blight on this star again.” Evelyn clutched her arm with a good hand, her head tilting up at the ceiling. “He’s dead Evelyn.” Still, she fell to her knees, attempting to stop the burning in her lungs.


	4. Deja Vu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I scrapped this three times and now have 3000 words of useless words. *Sighs* I'm really, really trying hard to not push this to quickly and I fear I am failing. Still, it's fun to write. Enjoy!

Emet-selch wasn’t expecting her to take his words to heart. So little of them did. He took his stroll through the dark carven with minimal interest. A few drips here the empty expanse echoing in his ears. Emet-Selch also wasn’t expecting her to be back to look at the murals. It was the dead of night and somehow the warrior had tiptoed past the scions and back into the forest without a word. Perhaps she just couldn’t sleep. Often he found her twisting and turning, stuck in the thrall of a nightmare. Emet-Selch wondered if the warrior slept at all. A pity, considering sleep was a such a wonderful past time. One didn’t have to face the world when you were sleeping. 

Just the inner demons, or the memories. It was rare that Emet-Selch ever did have a nap without being plagued by a dream or two. He watched the warrior stand there, staring up at the mural of Amaurot with a gaze that suggested deep thought. Her slender fingers passed over old paint. There was a slight chill in the air, the crisp of it filtering through the cave. It turned everything icy. He watched the warrior shiver. She gripped her arms and rubbed them for friction. It didn’t look like it did much. 

“Really hero, I thought you saw fit to stare at these long enough when you passed through the first time.” Emet-Selch stepped from the shadows. His voice bored and unimpressed. 

Evelyn turned on her heels, her shoulders tense. “By the Twelve what’s wrong with you.” She hissed. 

Emet-Selch yawned, stretching out his arms dramatically. “I’m not the one sneaking around in the middle of the morning.” Emet-Slch leaned against a wall and crossed his arms, observing her movements. “Though I see at least few of my words have left a mark.” 

Evelyn stayed silent for a very long time. She kept on fingering the painting of Amaurot, of the towering spires and red fiery paint. She seemed lost in a dream, imagining what could have been a beautiful city. 

“An achingly familiar world.” She repeated, “I can’t get the words out of my head. They’re stuck there like an echo.” 

“I wasn’t aware you liked my voice so much warrior.” There was a smug smirk on his features. 

Beneath it, however, he wondered what she saw in those depictions, or if they meant anything to her. There was a silent hope growing in the back of his head he didn’t care for. Ever since beholding her soul, seeing what was beneath all that primordial light he silently wondered if it was hers. He hated it, the feeling of needing to say something to a fragment that wouldn’t remember a damn thing. What was there left to say? 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She tried to give the statement a measure of bit but she was severely lacking. “It’s just something you said that struck a cord. Nothing more.” Her fingers dropped from the mural and she sighed. 

“Care to elaborate?” Emet-Selch pushed off of his wall, boots echoing in the cave before they came to a still. She looked up at him briefly before her sights settled back on the towering city on the wall. 

“I’m not a mind reader after all.” Emet-Selch continued.

“Not on your list of abilities? Shame.” 

Emet-Selch glared at her. “I can just leave as well if you continue to be dull as you are.” 

“Ha! Perhaps it’s better that way.” Evelyn bit her lip and chewed on it, pondering her next words carefully. “I need someone to listen to me.” 

Emet-Selch only wondered briefly why it hadn’t been her friends and him instead to take that place. The scions were more then capable of that, if not he truly worried for the warrior’s state of mind. She often looked like a straw man. Fingers pulling at the seams of their doll before it completely fell apart. Emet-Selch couldn’t place why, or when it began but he understood what it was to feel tired. The warrior of light was very, very tired. He audibly sighed, raising his arms in exasperation. “If you must.” 

“Do you know what Deja vu is like?” She finally took a seat on a perched rock, bringing one knee to her chest to rest her chin on. Her red locks fell over her shoulder gracefully, urled up and messy from lying in bed no doubt. 

“I have a creeping suspicion of it every day.” Emet-Selch had lived far to long not to glance over his shoulder at something he’d already seen in a memory long and forgotten. 

“I look at this and I feel like I’ve seen it somewhere. I just…” Evelyn ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it back away from her face. “I can’t place it. It’s so completely out of reach. And when I think I can grasp onto it, it slips through my fingers.” Evelyn looked down at her splayed fingers, as if grains of sand were lost to her. “Listen to me, musing about something I’ve never seen.” 

Emet-selch was at a loss for words. He finally took a seat next to the warrior and let his gaze rest on her. She was lost in the moment, in a memory she couldn’t picture. Her soul twisted, that brilliant twist of darkness and light snuffed out by an even brighter primordial light. It was disheartening to watch and he couldn’t help but feel the urge to shake her back awake. To tell her everything due to that one sliver of hope. Instead he smothered it, like he smothered everything else. Curse those feelings, they would only slow him down and have him second guessing. 

“A pity, it must give you quite a migraine.” 

Evelyn hit his shoulder. “I’ve shared my thoughts and that’s all you have to say?” Evelyn pinched the bridge of her nose. “Of course it is I’m talking to an ascian. I’ve asked him to lend me an ear, which he clearly does not have.” She suddenly looked far more tired then she did before she entered the cave. “You’re horrible.” 

“Did I say I would listen to your plight in the least? Do remember we are enemies.” Emet-Selch was loathe to admit he didn’t feel like enemies right now. No, something akin to bickering old friends. 

Evelyn considered it, curling a hand in her lap with vague annoyance. “And yet you’re letting me speak my mind.” 

“If a tree falls in a forest and there’s no one there to hear it did it truly happen?” Emet-Selch waved his hand as if it was an after thought. “What would your dear scions think if you told them?” 

Evelyn didn’t answer, perhaps to consider her words once more or due to spiraling further downward into that damned mural. “You mean to say would they take me seriously?” Evelyn smiled, resting a hand on her chin. “They would be very opinionated on the matter. Their worst worry would be you. If you’ve spun a fairy tale or your own version of truth. Seeing as you’re the only one with answers that would be a risk. But that’s what you’re here for, to tell us what we’re fighting against, to allow us to make up our own minds about the reality of the world.” 

Emet-Selch blinked, finding her words rather profound in a way “Hero, I do believe your scions don’t give enough credit for your acute observations.” 

“Does anyone ever wonder what I think silent as I am. I can clearly observe my surroundings, watch body language from afar and offer my own conclusions later.” 

“That doesn’t bode well for most people if it holds any truth.” Emet-Selch thought aloud. “I can’t imagine what you’ve already observed of yours truly.” Emet-Selch called it burning curiosity, or egotism. What had he already divulged without so much as a word, and were her observations as accurate as she claimed? 

Evelyn covered up a laugh that threatened to escape her lips. “I’m not sure Ascian you’ve lived lifetimes. Your facade is more meticulously placed than mine. The only thing I’ve managed to notice is your abrupt departure from our last conversation.” Evelyn suddenly sunk down to the ground floor, the rocks biting into her back. Evelyn tilted her head up toward the ceiling. “Perhaps you’ll tell me one day what I did to upset you.”

Emet-Selch found that there was a ilm of discomfort in his shoulders. He stood up and dusted off his skirts as if he’d heard nothing. It probably only made her feel more right in her conclusions. Her eyes were far to sharp for her own good. Emet-Selch should have concluded that when he first glanced her figure. 

“Did I hit a nerve Ascian?” By Zodiark, she was like a snake who had just struck the a first blow to her prey. 

“There is not one word, nor any that would affect me. If you think otherwise you are sorely mistaken.” 

Evelyn just shrugged, “So I can sufficiently say I was wrong.” She stood up, collected the lance that leaned against the slab of hard earth. “Perhaps I’m not as observant as I thought.” She looked mildly irritated, but she said nothing else. The walk back was quiet. The only sounds were crickets and crunching leaves under their feet. He could hear the soft movement of metal behind him, the gentle shuffle of her feet. 

There was a sense of deja vu in the air. There seemed to be quite a bit of it tonight. Emet-Selch shuffled through a few spare memories and found himself lacking for better of what brought on the feeling. He considered the moonlight, or the glowing fauna that sprouted here and there throughout the forest. Nothing came to mind. Silence turned into something comfortable. There were a few pauses here and there. The warrior picked out a flower or two that grew from the earth. Emet-Selch found himself waiting, leaning against a tree each time with a face that bespoke hidden irritation. 

“Hero, if you dally any further you won’t reach your bed. I do believe you still need sleep.”

Evelyn plucked one more flower before she caught up with Emet-Selch’s long legs. 

“And whatever are those for?” Emet-Selch pointed at her handful of blue flowers. 

Evelyn took a glance at her arms. “For Fanow, I thought I’d make them something out of flowers. There’s supposed to be a small celebration, for defeating the lightwarden.”

“Was this your true reason for coming out here in the middle of the night?” Emet-Selch thought it a reckless if not stupid idea. 

“Not necessarily.” Her mind was elsewhere instead again. Back to the stray thoughts of a burning city. “Not that it’s any of your business, why are you still here anyway Ascian?” 

“Why to make sure our dear hero makes it back to Fanow unharmed.” Emet-Selch crossed an arm at his midsection, bowing low as a gentleman would in better society. 

“Trusting you is hard enough. If you simply didn’t want to answer you could have said something.” 

“You are far to sharp for your own good.” They continued their walk back to Fanow. It wasn’t that he thought the warrior couldn’t take care of herself. It was the fact that he wanted to continue to watch her move, to find every little niche and secret before he had to kill her. 

“Then find a believable lie.” She retorted, and just like that, the silence slowly filled up the space of idle chatter. 

Then, when they found the bridge of Fanow, Emet-Selch found that their dear gunbreaker was waiting for them. Thancred glared at him, and turned his head to Evelyn with an ilm of disappointment. He was in slacks and a loose shirt. His arms were crossed, his lips downtrodden in a frown. Did the man ever smile? One would wonder. Evelyn waved her hand as if she’d done nothing wrong. 

“I believe you’re in trouble.” Emet-Selch muttered. “I didn’t realize you had a nanny.” 

Evelyn stood there silent like an innocent child. The gunbreaker wasn’t having any of that. The warrior after all couldn’t well hide from him. It only took a moment for Thancred to descend down. He took Evelyn by the wrist gently, pulling her at his side. Thancred’s anger simmered, nearly boiling over in Emet-Selch’s direction.

“What have you done Ascian?” 

Emet-Selch’s lip curled. “Why what all gentleman do.” He took for another bow, his right arm outstretched. “I perchance saw the lady wandering the forest and thought well to accompany her.” 

The gunbreaker’s jaw clenched. “And you’re to say you didn’t lure Evelyn out here to get rid of her yourself?” Of course that was his line of thinking, it always was. 

Emet-Selch continued his theatrics. He rested a hand on his chest and stayed with mock disbelief. “Banish the thought dear, I would never think of it.” He would, he thought about it often actually.

“Thancred, I went out on a walk, he just found it amusing to follow me about.” Evelyn rolled her eyes. “He does like to observe, we already knew that the Ascian was perverse is this really a shock.”

Thancred let Evelyn’s wrist go, concern washing over his otherwise tired features. He took a weary glance Emet-Selch’s way, searched his face for something and turned his head sharply. “You should be resting, you’ve had a long journey after all.”

“I’m sorry Thancred, sleep tends to elude me these days.” The annoying part of this entire conversation was that the warrior of light was apologizing for needing fresh air after a long drawn out fight. Emet-Selch was positive now. No one was aware that their warrior slept in fitful turns and low whimpers throughout the night. He wasn’t about to point it out either, but he could dangle the knowledge in front of the scions like perfectly cured cheese. Emet-Selch stuffed that thought in his pocket for another day. 

“Well if that’s all you wanted, I think I shall take my leave. As invigorating as our little chat has been you’ve been most exhausting dear. Perhaps travel in daylight next time?”

Evelyn’s fingers twitched for her lance, he could see it. “Do shut up Ascian. The next time I find you hiding in a shadow I will gladly show you my lance.” 

“Is that an invitation my dear?” Emet-Selch was going to leave it at that, but how could he deny a challenge. He took her hand in his and with thin pursed lips, kissed it as he would a blushing paramour. “Because it sounds very convincing.” He could feel the spark between them again. The need to pull her close and lather her in his own fitful aether. 

A shot rang out in the air, and before the bullet even hit him he had dissolved back into the shadows. Evelyn stood there, frozen in shock. She looked down at her hand which had begun to tremble. Sucking in a hard breath she rubbed where his lips had been as if they’d been poisoned. 

“Evelyn, are you okay?” Thancred had a touch of worry in his voice. 

“That— That— Swiving scum of the earth! Mark my words the next time he thinks he can touch me I will personally chop off a hand! You hear that you Ascian, I will murder you in your sleep! I know where your perch is!” 

Thancred’s worry had soon devolved in that of mild horror. Emet-Selch, who had retreated into his shadowy vigil couldn’t help but compare the anger of the warrior to a certain someone he had known long ago. He found it rather endearing, much to Emet-Selch’s dismay.


	5. The Concerns of Kholusia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have thrown in an arc I promise its all connected *Plots* Thank you for all the hits, and look overs I hope to pull some more of your attention soon. also have fun with G'raha and wol friendshipping. damn that friendshipping and all it's cuteness.

Evelyn remembered one particular day where she just couldn’t get out of bed. She would lie there and curl up in a ball. No one would knock at the door, and no one bothered her peace. Perhaps if she voiced her worries more frequently they would know that she didn’t stay in bed very long anymore. Evelyn found herself locking the door of her room and hiding under cold sheets far to often in the First. She wondered if it was from the war she was torn from? Or maybe she was just tired? But the feeling of heaviness never left her. She turned and twisted, mulled over her thoughts frequently. Often she wished she could crush them in the palm of her hand. They were all such silly thoughts. 

_‘Why am I the only being on this pathetic star that realizes that you’ve been holed up in your chambers all day.’_

Evelyn always smiled at the memory. The damned Ascian turned out to be her largest support for just, Evelyn. It’s what got her out of bed that very morning. Even if she barely slept, even if her mind was fractured she still managed to take the step out of the door. It was what encouraged her to meet G’raha for breakfast, to smile, to even jest. So if beneath all of that was just misery, she could say that that one memory got her through the worst of her morning. 

When G’raha invited her to breakfast, she wasn’t expecting something so elaborate. Nor was she aware that this part of the tower ever existed. The small wooden table had a basket of toast and plate of vegetables and fruit. Arched open windows allowed the sunlight to filter through. It hit the crystalline walls, fractured blue light hitting her face gently. Evelyn took it upon herself to look through one of the window. She could see people in the Crystarium going about their daily lives. Further out were high mountains rising and dipping into the distance. The soft breeze carried over into the small hall they were to dine it, leaving her cool and rather comfortable. 

“G’raha, this is…” 

“Nothing less of what you should deserve. I thought we could simply eat and chat. However, you’ll have to forgive me, I’m only good at making toast. Lyna is the one with cooking skills.” 

Evelyn scoffed. “What about that basket of sandwiches?” She watched G’raha pull out a seat for her, his ears twitching in nervous anticipation. 

“I don’t have to cook sandwiches.” G’raha laughed to himself as she rested her lance against a wall. 

She took her seat, grateful for the small respite. It almost reminded her of her dinner with Aymeric. The elezen was so very handsome that night. At some point she swore she could feel herself blush. The small intimate setting had her mind running in a few different directions. Alas, nothing ever happened they were interrupted. 

“Fair point.” She took two pieces of toast on her empty plate and a few vegetables.

“How fares the Source these days?” G’raha pushed a small tomato between his lips, and looked up at Evelyn with curiosity. 

“It’s fairly quiet right now, the skirmishes at the border have all but diminished with Garlemald thrown back into civil war.” Evelyn took a piece of toast and nibbled on the edge. “Trust me, I tried looking through the reports for something to do. But Ala Mhigo is all but stuffed with soldiers that don’t need me right now. I thought of Ishgard and the Reconstruction Effort but it gave me far to much time to think.” Evelyn’s looked down at her hands. 

“I’m glad Norvrandt can be a place of solace for you then.”

Evelyn stuffed another piece of toast in her mouth. She wasn’t sure solace was something she could equate to the First. Closeness perhaps, or maybe it was because Amaurot was not so far. She was still avoiding that sparkling city at the bottom of the ocean floor. She couldn’t bring herself to think to much on it. The falling spires in Mor Dhona haunted her. Her dreams of Amaurot haunted her. Everything that had to do with the Ascians could be more or less a bane to her fragile mental state right now. She had a small urge to go back to the Pendents and sleep the day away. 

“Yes of course, seeing your face G’raha gives me some comfort that I’m not to terribly alone.” Evelyn still felt so completely alone however. “Did you bring the reports I requested?” 

G’raha turned slightly red, smiling to himself at the small compliment. He took a long drink of cold tea at his side before he stood up. He rummaged through a few files forgotten on the desk next to the table. The file in question was tied up and ready to be delivered into her hands. If Minfilia were still here, bless her soul, she would be reading these and not her. Paper work never did keep Evelyn’s attention for very long. She realized at some point that reading the wealth of information helped her in the long run. There was always a lay of the land, a point of concern or several, the incident in question, and small details that one would forget to voice. Boring as they were, paperwork had its uses. 

“Do we have coffee?” 

G’raha blinked. “Coffee?” He looked at her strangely. Eozeans usually preferred sugary teas.

Evelyn used to love tea, but the more weary she became she realized she needed a new choice of drug. “Sorry, I know it’s a odd request but I will fall asleep on the folder if I don’t have a cup.” She gave G’raha a crooked smile. “Tea has been a far away dream of keeping me awake.” 

G’raha sighed, “I shall see what I have, coffee isn’t exactly a resource here in the First.” 

Evelyn pulled on the string of the leather file. “A pity, it does wonders to keep me up late at night when I still have work to do.” 

G’raha popped his head out from the small room across their table of food. “No rest for the righteous I see.” 

Evelyn began to laugh. She was brought back to a memory of Ishgard with that simple comment. “No, I fear not. To many people to save, and far to many to help.” A far cry form her usual words but it held a new weight she was growing familiar with. 

The rest of the morning was spent reading over reports, trying possible leads together to find the hideout of the otherwise unhappy Eulmoreans. The group began with simple raids in the lower levels of Eulmore. Eulmore still lacked military power after Vauthry and Ran’jit’s fall from grace. While there was someone in office to take Ran’jit’s position they still had problems collecting enough helping hands. The lack thereof caused riots, which led into mass chaos, destruction of property, and housing units. Evelyn’s brows knitted together. It was enough trouble lending out help to other parts of Norvrandt and now Kholusia was facing a group of discomposed Eulmoreans. It wasn’t just from a nobility standpoint but now inhabitants of Kholusia as a whole.

“It’s a wonder how mob mentality works.” She muttered. 

“It’s gotten worse since you left. There’s many hurdles we’ve still yet to jump over.” 

“Amaurot wasn’t built in a day.” Evelyn muttered, she took a sip of her coffee but paused. That in itself felt foreign on her lips. 

G’raha shot her an odd look, like the words were just as foreign to him as they were to her. Evelyn fumbled for an excuse. “I mean, you can’t imagine it being built in a day right? It’s such a large, beautiful, city.” 

“I unfortunately couldn’t take in the sights.” G’raha seemed to go quiet. She knew that look, he was remembering the barrel of gun before being whisked away into The Tempest.

Evelyn wanted to groan, mostly at herself. “Anyway, I shall leave for Kholusia today. To gain a better understanding of the situation.” She quickly took her gauntlets and placed them back on before grabbing her lance. She felt that burning in her lungs again. She was drowning and she needed to get out before Twelve forbid it happened right in front of G’raha. That was the last thing she needed. Her hand reached the door and as she was about to push it open, G’raha called out for her. 

“Evelyn!” he fidgeted with his robes, his eyes downcast. “If you wish to regal me of it, I would be most appreciative.” 

Evelyn put on her best smile. “Thank you G’raha, I’ll see you in a few days time.” Evelyn gripped her earrings. She worried them through the halls of the Crystal Tower and beyond the doors where the Dossal Gate stood. She took a sharp turn and threw her back against the staircase of the entrance. She began to wonder if it were possible to sew her mouth shut? There was an ache in her chest, one she couldn’t place like the many other emotions that ran rampant. Evelyn rubbed her eyes, she could already feel a headache coming on. It was time to stop thinking about it unless she wanted to run in circles again. 

  
Riding to Kholusia was just exactly what she needed. The fresh air on her face and the soft pounding of chocobo feet drowned out the sound of her own thoughts. There was no more ache for Amaurot, no more thoughts of her lost friend, it was just violet trees in Lakeland and shadeless bright lands of Kholusia. Evelyn pulled the reigns on her chocobo and hopped down onto hard ground with a dull thud.

Her bird made a sound of protest but Evelyn rested a hand on Cosmo’s beck. “Shush, you’ll be fine.” There were newly built stables available for horses and mounts now. Evelyn left her chocobo in a stall before entering Eulmore. No doubt the mystel would still be doing his work at a table instead of an office. When Evelyn did set her sights on the mayor she was shocked to see him filled at the brim with even more paper work then she. 

“Gods dammit, where’s my other ink pen!” 

Evelyn chuckled because she had been in a similar situation a few moons ago. “Chai-nuzz might I say that’s not the mouth of a Mayor.” 

Chai looked up from his paperwork, he opened his mouth to say something but it seemed to die somewhere in his throat. “Wicked white, the woman of the hour to grace us with her presence once more. What brings the Warrior of Darkness to Kholusia?” 

“My help actually. I heard you had a problem in paradise.” 

“Ha! you jest surely? I have a many problem Warrior which one do you speak of?” He pressed his glasses further up his face, a rough line set on his lips. The dark circles under his eyes bespoke of further exhaustion then even Evelyn could sympathize with. 

“The rioters in your midst of course. The Exarch bid me help you with the small issue.” Twelve Evelyn hoped this went somewhere. 

Chai-nuzz stood up from his small table and dusted off his elegant coat. “If that’s the case then follow me, somewhere preferably more private.” He grabbed the small stack of work he riffled through before motioning her to follow.

If Chai-nuzz had a private room why was he still doing work in The Canopy? It was an unrelated question but a burning question nonetheless. A guard opened a large wooden door and let the Mayor and herself to step through with relative ease. The room was as over the top as Eulmore was. It had those bright colored banners and gold edgings along the corners of the wall. There was a rather large window behind him with the view of the ocean. On the desk was even more paperwork. She heard the door shut behind her.

“How much do you know?” Chai asked, crossing his fingers under his chin. 

“Just what you’ve sent me no more then that.” 

“The situation has only worsened since I last spoke to the Exarch. They grow bolder by the week, and we don’t have the people to help everyone.” Chai took a stand from his seat. “That being said, I would like you to go to Amity. There’s rumor that they’ve been spotted up in Scree. We just don’t know how they haven’t been seen up at The Ladder without suspicion.” 

“So you’d like me to investigate?” Evelyn asked. 

“If you would.” Chai replied. “Of course I’ll have accommodations made for you. It’s the least I can offer if you’re staying in Kholusia.” 

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” 

Chai took a deep breath of air, momentarily rubbed his temple before he walked around his desk to open the large doors. “Talk to the attendant downstairs and you’ll have your room set.” 

Evelyn’s shoulders slouched as the door closed. She took tentative steps towards the balcony. She watched the waves lick the cliff side, shoebills taking flight from their perch over the open water. Amaurot was out there, hidden deep in the depths of the ocean. She sighed, and instead of looking inward she thought to the work that had to be done. 

“Time to hunt down some Eulmoreans.” 


	6. Lost in Translation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I heard you wanted more Emet-Selch. Well, you are in luck. This is by far my largest chapter. Mistakes were made. Have fun.

Evelyn scoffed, intending to give him a remark that would rival his own. “Of course, your eyes especially.” She clamped her mouth shut. 

His smirk turned into a twisted smile, he brought his hands together and clapped, slowly. “Marvelous performance Hero. I’m sure you wanted to keep that from me until I was dead.”

“Dead men don’t speak.” Evelyn pulled out a second chair and reluctantly took a seat across from the Emet-Selch.

“A threat is it? Will that fire never dull?” In truth from what Emet-Selch had glimpsed she was all billowing smoke and embers. “Which leads me to another question. It is a wonder,” He tapped his cheek once more, book temporarily forgotten. “How does the vaunted hero keep moving forward even after all her suffering?” 

Something changed, the edge wore off, and instead resignation took place over any other emotion. “For those we have lost, and for those we can yet save. If I gave up, all I’ve been through, all my suffering would have been for naught.” 

“Normal drivel from a hero. As if I haven’t heard that before.”

“Says the one who thinks I’m entertaining.” 

“You wouldn’t be the first nor the last.” They were far and in between his lovers and friends but he had had them. Dined with them, and found most of them incompetent other then the few.

“So what you’re really telling me is not to flatter myself.” Evelyn’s lips turned up in a half smile. There it was, she was finally comfortable. 

“As long as I’m not the one that said it first.” This almost felt normal, like a time from long ago. He almost smiled, something he thought was long forgotten. He watched her soul ease in his presence once more. The hero probably didn’t realize what she was expressing herself at all in such a way.

“I wish you would stop staring at me like that.” It came as a murmur twinged with sudden embarrassment. 

He continued to stare at her. If only that damned light would move out of the way he could watch her soul burn unhindered. That lovely dark space colored in iridescence captivated him every time. There was nothing that could or would ever pull him away from it, at one point in time anyway. 

“I do fear I have no idea what you’re talking about.” His eyes smoldered beneath his lashes. He watched her take him in once more, her eyes wandering. They would dart to his neck, his eyes, his jaw. They were small glances, so fast one would wonder if she had looked at all. 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” She didn’t want to say it herself. 

“Call me ignorant, why don’t you elaborate for me?” 

Evelyn blinked, a small flush of red brushing her cheeks. She couldn’t say no, the fairies magicks made it impossible. “You look right through me, and at me all in the same breath.” She struggled to come up with the words to accurately describe his lingering gazes. “Your eyes soften briefly, then they turn molten. They heat up like liquid gold. I can feel it, like a tingling sensation at the back of my neck.” She grazed the back of her neck, a soft red brushing her cheeks. 

“Is that what you think?” 

He stood up and shut his book. Emet-Selch grazed his gloved fingers over the corner of the desk and forgotten tomes. He watched her, much like a cat with its food. Evelyn attempted to push her chair back out but Emet-Selch caught her between the table and her seat. He lowered himself to her height, his lips only inches away from hers. Evelyn stuttered, failing to find her words in a rather perilous point in time. She parted her lips again and found that no sound could escape them. Her hand reached for something but Emet-Selch found himself distracted. His attention was elsewhere, sinking into a green pool, into the depths of her dark soul. 

“Your book!” Zodiark be damned. The book was shoved between her face and his own, blocking whatever intentions he had for her. “Tell me about that.” She faltered horribly, looking away from the intensity of his gaze. She was a woman yet, a clever one at that. 

Emet-Selch plucked it out of her hand with elegant fingers. “Keep your filthy hands off of that. It’s a very old book.” He pushed away from the warrior, finally giving her a measure of space. 

“So it’s important to you?” Evelyn asked.

“Yes, it is.” His voice changed, it didn’t have his bite to every well played out sentence. Instead he fingered the edges of the worn cover with a sort of loving touch. 

“Is it a good book?” Evelyn took a glance at it, her head tilting in sudden confusion. 

The answer fought its way through his throat. “By Zodiark it’s an awful book. The poetry sub-par at the least.” But it was a small trinket he could never part with. 

“It looks well loved nonetheless. I imagine you take it up with you in your tree you nap in.” The thought seemed to bring a smile to her lips. 

Emet-Selch just scoffed, he absolutely did not. It was only when he wanted to read before his nap. He didn’t hear a follow up question to prove it otherwise, thankfully. Emet-Selch finally placed the small book down in the middle of the table. He watched her brows furrow in sudden concentration. 

“Give me a minute.” She pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes, shaking her head gently. There was a thin line forming on her lips. “Ugh, that hurts.” She muttered, “What is that?” 

Emet-Selch blinked, “Can you not read it?” 

“No, my echo does not like that. Whatever it is.” She rubbed her temples and groaned. 

Emet-Selch took a blank piece of paper and a ink pen. In elegant script he wrote two separate sentences in two different languages. He pushed the writing towards her. “Can you read this?” 

Evelyn took the writing between her fingers. She looked rather unamused. “I wish you wouldn’t call them nats.” 

“I thought it was amusing,” There was a smirk playing at the corner of Emet-Selch’s lips. “Can you read it?” 

“One’s Garlean, the other I don’t recognize.” 

“It’s because it Allagan.” 

“Allagan? Why do you…” 

Emet-Selch dismissed her quickly before she could ask that question of all things. “Never mind that. Try and read the book one more time.” He slid it toward the warrior. He wasn’t liking the implications this was giving him. 

“Why?” She asked. 

“Because I want to test a theory. Go on.” 

Evelyn concentrated even harder, but she quickly faltered, grasping her head. Emet-Selch watched closely, seeing the confines of light around her soul tighten ever so gently. Damn Hydaelen, the mother crystal stopped her champion from even reading her own language? Emet-Selch’s fist clenched, his jaw set rigid. If he had any choice he would strip her of all of it. Set her free and tell her everything. He froze at the thought. No, she wasn’t her, she was just another pawn for The Rejoining.

“I’m sorry, it’s right on the top of my tongue but I just…” 

“No matter, it’s not important.” Emet-Selch’s mood suddenly soured, this whole ordeal but a bad taste in his mouth. 

“It must have been something.” She presses. She didn’t want to ask, she wanted him to give the information freely. Emet-Selch in all his power could not bring himself to do it. There would be no point in such trivial things.

“It is nothing you need concern yourself with.” Did this mean that Hydealen meant to hide the truth from her? Would the warrior had known anything without his intervention? How utterly disappointing, that Hydaelyn would have her forget forever. How easily it was for him to forget their roles. Perhaps it was also time to remind her as well. “I do however wonder why you decided to run all the way to Il Mheg.” He was wont to ruin a good thing as soon as it came along. “No link pearl, just a small reminder to your scion friends that you’ll be gone until further notice. Now I do wonder what could make the vaunted Warrior of Light run away from her duties.”

He saw her visibly tense. She bit her lip so hard he dared to wonder if she would draw blood. Evelyn pushed herself off her chair. “That’s…” She tried to keep her voice from spilling, the magic working its way through the air. 

“Do, go on Hero, I’m throughly intrigued.” 

She stepped away from him, her guard thrown back up just as his was. Amusing to think that they had so much in common. “You’re horrible.” 

Emet-Selch didn’t notice that he was taking slow tentative steps toward her, skirts swishing gently under the silence. Evelyn didn’t realize that she had hit a dead end against the bookshelf behind her. Emet-Selch tipped his head downward once more. She wouldn’t run away from him this time. “Funny how you assumed I was anything but horrible.” 

A laugh escaped her, mirthless and suddenly self aware of the situation. “Fine, you want to know I’ll be more then happy to indulge.” Her voice was low and seething, her eyes downcast in what looked to be shame. A sudden dam of boiling emotions flooded out, expanding and nearly taking him off his feet. “I’m tired Ascian! I’m tired of fighting every war, I’m tired of losing people I love. My titles mean nothing to me, I am in all its entirety alone! Warrior of Light, Savior of Eorzea. Seven Hells you’ve even given me a title!” Her shoulders shook from the sudden flood of emotion. “Now someone has summoned me to a completely different shard and I need to save them too?” She bit her lip, as if she couldn’t stop what may come next. “It’s not even the worst part. They haven’t even told me I’m dying, that my aether is wrong. I overheard them. Whatever I did to the first three Lightwardens my flow of magick doesn’t look normal. Am I to be another martyr for the greater good?” 

There it was, the unbridled truth of the matter. There he was a reflection of himself in her, the loneliness, the betrayal, and the exhaustion. It was all wrapped up ready to exploit. Her soul cried, and his in turn sung to it’s dreary tune. She was beautiful as a blazing inferno. Even if she turned to embers and smoke, she still moved forward unwavering. At some point, Emet-Selch knew. He knew he would have to face the truth of her soul. Emet-Selch felt a shiver up his spine. He wasn’t sure why he’d thrown his self-control to the dogs. He called it a lack of intimacy. But in reality, fire and steel were always meant to clash. Emet-Selch cupped her chin between his fingers and his other hand snaked around the small of her back. In one fluid movement his lips crashed against hers. 

It wasn’t at all by any means gentle. Evelyn froze in his grasp, a book fell to the ground with a thud but it sounded so far away. He pulled away only enough to catch his breath, to search for what he thought could still be there. Emet-Selch rested his forehead against hers, could he hope? Her fingers found a fist full of hair, pulling him back down for another crushing kiss. Teeth and tongue clashed. There was a need to dominate, it rushed through his veins and nearly convinced him to fall to a baser instinct. A low moan escaped her, breathless. Her other hand found his cheek, fingers grazing skin. Her touch burned him, his soul writhing underneath hers like it did so long ago. His hand pressed her up against him closer. He wanted to feel ever ilm, every heated touch. Her fervor all consuming in nature, her soul a chaotic raging storm. It was such a fleeting moment, something he would remember for years to come. But all moments were just that, momentary. 

Emet-Selch felt a sting across his face, and all that warmth was gone. She pushed him back, confused, unaware of what just happened or why she had moved the way she did against him. Emet-Selch ran his thumb under his bleeding lip. The red staining his otherwise perfectly white glove. “Yes, I think that was sufficient enough.” 

“You smug bastard.” She was still struggling to catch her breath, still struggling to comprehend what just happened. “Get out.” 

Emet-Selch found himself much to pleased to deny her. He took a bow, before he completely disappeared from her view. 


	7. Return to That Place of Betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angst, angst, angst, angst! I swear I love my characters. It's just. Evelyn has a lot on her mind. Thank you for all the Kudos and bookmarks as of late, this makes me happy and makes me want to continue writing this lovely sob story of mine. I swear I think it has a good ending. There's a few ideas playing in my head.

There was a measure of comfort she took in a Dragoons armor. After a long war with Garlemald she found that her face was well recognized among many. The Crystarium’s people knew her face far better then anyone else on the First. It was a bother. Sometimes Evelyn simply wanted to go along her day without the trouble of being a well renowned hero. Not only that, her eye had people tilt their head in wonder. She didn’t enjoy the attention, much like the attention she had brought on with her clawed hand. Her armor had become a blessing in disguise. The helmet specifically was truly a blessing. It would cover most of her face. It didn’t leave much to eye except an air of mystery. She hadn’t seen Estinien’s face until he was bed ridden from his possession back in Ishgard. So she slowly converted to the idea of simply letting her identity rest behind her headgear. As of late she hid more behind her helmet then one would think necessary. 

The journey to The Ladder wasn’t long, it let her clear her thoughts of any Ascians or apparitions of the dead. She didn’t think of the ocean and what it held for her beneath it either. The Bottom Rung’s people seemed to be in high spirits. Men and woman working on houses an in effort for reconstruction. She’d heard rumor that there was even a larger effort to expand Amity into a thriving village atop the high rising cliffs. She was about to take her place on the elevator in question, but a thought stopped her. She caught the attention of a guard dawned in Eulmorean colors. 

“Excuse me, I have a few questions if you don’t mind.” She wondered rather to tip her helmet or not. Her hand didn’t move from its spot next to her. No, might as well not cause a ruckus.

“Of course milady what can I do for you today?” 

“The Ladder, has anyone of a suspicious sort been known to take it in the last few weeks?” 

The guard blinked, “No, I suppose you’re referring to the rioters in black robes?” 

“Black robes?” There was nothing in the reports saying that. Odd. 

“Yes, it’s why I reported that we hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary. Why the sudden interest?” 

“I’ve been given instructions to help Mayor Chai with the rioters. I’m just covering basics before I delve into the whole matter.” 

“If that’s the case I will happily send word should anything change.” 

“I would appreciate that.” She murmured, “Will you allow me up?”

The guard extended his hand out as she took a step onto the platform. The Talos to her right began to glow and move. The Ladder jolted, but Evelyn didn’t move from her position, she gripped the railing and watched as she ascended higher and higher. So they hadn’t disturbed The Ladder. The people were left undisturbed, happily working on what little they had built from an abundance of disuse. A small smile found a way on her face. What little it was still managed to bring her a small amount of pride. A loose strand of red fell from her helmet. The wind blew gently by with each turn of the lever. She wondered why the Eulmoreans took to wearing black robes. She thought perhaps the Eulmorean colors at least, to prove a point. Evelyn concluded that they were a group full of followers of Vauthry, or even Ran’jit. It would make sense, unless she was missing some form of information. 

“Augh, what a nuisance.” She muttered, “If you’re going to write a report at least include even the most minuscule details.” She would have a very long conversation about that later. 

Until then her minds sole focus was finding these damn Eulmoreans. She took a step off the platform, her sights resting on Mt. Gulg in the distance. It’s shining crown was a reminder of what had happened. The talos took up a stance of hope, proving to the people of Kholusia that anything was possible, even pushing back a large amount of light. Above in the Top Rung was just as populated now. Guards were planted at the upper tiers, one at the The Ladder’s entrance, and two more placed outside the walls. She continued onward. The guards outside had nothing to report, there was nothing out of place. Evelyn hoped Amity would have something more worthwhile. 

The small town wasn’t worse for ware. As a matter of fact it seemed that a few other villagers had taken up residence. She only hoped she could find Tristol, he always had an answer for something after all. She pushed the doors open of the small tavern only to find him at a table with a tankard of ale. She pushed her visor up and pulled off her headgear. Her hair had been in a tight bun to keep all of her curls in place, that didn’t mean that the heat of Kholusia was a enemy not to be taken lightly. 

“Tristol.” Evelyn placed a armored hand on the table. She hoped that he wasn’t drunk yet. 

“Bloody White, look who decided to drop by for a visit. It’s been to long.” 

“I count only a few moons.” 

“Count six moons. What brings you to Amity today?” 

“I need to speak with you on a few personal matters. If you would.” 

Tristol stood from her seat, tankard in hand. Smart man, leaving your drink could cost you your life on a bad day. Evelyn tore him from his rambunctious group and leaned against the wooden frame of the door. 

“What seems to be the problem?” He pushed back a strand of silver hair. He was dressed in some pants and a loose fitted brown shirt. It was a far call from the well woven vest she remembered him in not long ago. 

“The way the dwarves showed you to Amity, I need to know where that passage is.” 

“The secret passage to avoid The Ladder? Whatever for?” 

“There’s been sightings of the rioters up in Scree, they’ve avoided The Ladder so I assume they know about the passage the dwarves have made.” 

Tristol frowned. “I see, It’s not a safe travel from up here but mayhaps…” he paused and thought hard about it. “If you were to head east of The Ladder. Were you to follow the cliff side into Bright Cliff you can enter safely and explore the tunnels from there. Let me remind you however that the tunnels haven’t been used, the dwarves abandoned them some time ago, long before I ever was escorted perilously through. If you do go I suggest you do with a plan and a course of action should something happen.”

“It’s one of those missions then is it? Have you seen any hooded figures in the are as of late?” 

“Not anyone like that near Amity. We haven’t seen anything of the like. Unless they’re hidden in plain sight.” 

Evelyn’s eyes slid toward the few people that were staying in Amity. That was a thought she didn’t have before getting here. Black hoods were to obvious and far to conspicuous. But if they ended up being nobles of Eulmore with continued residence who would think otherwise of them? No one in Kholusia knew who the suspected group was, just that there were rioters. If that information leaked there would be far more uprising then Evelyn could handle on her own and that would be with help from Eulmore. 

“You’ve thought of something I take it?” Tristol asked. 

Evelyn broke from her reverie. “Sorry, I was lost in thought. I’ll leave you to it, I’ll head to Tomra for more information. Thank you Tristol, I appreciate it.” 

“Of course, and when you’re back in Kholusia maybe drop by sooner? The village should be expanded by then.” 

“So the rumors were true? That’s great news.” Evelyn pressed her hands together and grinned.

“We’re hoping Mt. Gulg gets some more traffic. With the stories of your adventures we’ve had quite a few people that like the view.” Evelyn looked back out toward Mt. Gulg, a bittersweet memory surfacing. It was quite the performance that he’d given her at the end. Evelyn never had the chance to ask if he was an incredibly good actor or if he meant it. She bit her lip. That was a bad line of thought. 

“It’ll be considered a positive sign of hope for a long time to come. The world beyond still needs to heal, it’ll take work, a lot of sweat and tears but it’s possible now. It’s not a far off dream, and people certainly aren’t waiting for the end of the world anymore.” Yes, thanks to her and the Scions the First was well on track to see better days. It only took… Evelyn bit her lip again harder this time. She couldn’t think of that either, that was the last thing she wanted to think about. 

“We can’t thank you enough for the opportunity to live again.” Tristol took a spot next to her, watching the halo over Mt. Gulg glow from afar. “You’ve done us a great service.” 

“Thank you.” It was curt but genuine. “I’ll take my leave, if you see anything Tristol don’t hesitate to say something.” 

Tomra was far more help then Amity was. In her opinion she should have visited the dwarves first. The sightings in Scree weren’t true but they weren’t false either. Instead it seemed that the black figures were spotted on the border south east of Tomra. The only location between the two was Pit 8. There was virtually nothing there save for an abandoned elevator to the lower levels of an equally abandoned mine. No wonder Tristol said it wasn’t safe. When was anything she did safe anymore. Every step she took was closer to death. She almost welcomed it in the First. One of her many secrets, one out of a dozen. The only other took that one to the grave. What a scandal. Her friend and confidant had been an ascian. They would throw away the evening hours with good conversation. They would share a bed, warm and so inviting. In the end however moments were only that, fleeting and quick to fall away. She had killed him to save the world. She had stopped a Rejoining and the complete destruction of the Source. 

She still breathed, and he was gone. A gust of wind rushed past her, her lance rattling in her ears. She blinked, once, twice before realizing her feet had taken her to the entrance of Mt. Gulg. She felt mildly betrayed for she had almost avoided every location in the First that would bring her a lone memory of him. Evelyn should have turned around, she should have pushed it back like she usually did. She found her surroundings scarce of men, she found herself alone. Truly and inexplicably alone. 

Evelyn pushed open the gate and continued onward, her weary feet dragging her through the trench of the mountains and even further upward into the sky itself. Her ascent was long, the sin eaters far gone from the world here. Not many were spotted anymore. The gold and white pillars seemed to glow under moonlight. When had it gotten so dark? Evelyn couldn’t remember. Her fingers grazed soft granite, idly wandering with no destination in mind. When she realized that she was so far from humanity as a whole, her thoughts began to wander once more. She found herself at the steps of Vauthry’s throne. She sat herself down on the cold ground. She let her hair down and simply watched the stars above. 

“I find the world quite unfair as of late.” She echoed. “Everything I’ve accomplished was for the greater good. To save the lives of the Source and the First. Everyone is better off without the looming chaos you threatened to bring about. I can see how that seems unfair. How you must have missed your people, I can’t even fathom it.” Evelyn sighed. “How far do you have to fall into the abyss to do what you’ve done?” Evelyn realized that could have easily been her. “I keep thinking what would have happened if you lived. If somehow…” She paused, her eyes sliding to the right. “I suppose it was a silly thought. After all it was you that was so convinced Zodiark was the answer. Mayhap neither of them are an answer. Throw Hydaelyn and Zodiark out of the equation what then?” She received no answer. No snide remark, just the whistle of air. 

“You’re probably laughing at me.” Evelyn said. “A fools dream, made out of hopes far from achieving, I would laugh at me too.” Evelyn smiled, though it never reached her eyes. “Listen to me, talking to air. This wasn’t the reason I came out here I—” She needed to get it off her chest. To at least admit that there was some part of her that was empty without him. “This is the place where I allowed you to betray me. This is the place where I was ready to die.” Evelyn bit her lip. 

“So mayhap its the best place to say my piece.” In the middle of that glittering throne room, she stood and took a deep breath. “Let me be honest, to a world that will never hear me.” She whispered before biting her lip. 

“I suppose this wasn’t part of your grand play. I think we both realized what path this would lead us down. Or mayhap it was and instead of thinking I won you did instead. If only there were someone to talk to about it, perhaps I wouldn’t feel so…” Evelyn clutched her chest, a look of despair crossing her features. “So empty. Funny, I hadn’t realized it was there at all.” It was like a piece of her had gone missing and she wasn’t sure where to turn to. 

Her thoughts were consumed by Amaurot, consumed by him alone. She scarcely concentrated on anything else. “But now that you’re gone, I feel it growing larger. I feel so scattered and more alone then ever.” Her legs began to shake, her lip trembling from the overwhelming need to just scream. She needed to say it, she should say it. “Emet-Selch…” No, that wasn’t right. “Hades, I—” Her shoulders slumped, her carefully placed mask shattering. “I miss you, Hades.” She missed his snide remarks, his love of books, science, his charm. Gods those eyes, she could fall in them and never come back. “I never wanted it to end this way!” She was shouting now. “I never wanted to…” Evelyn widened her eyes. She could feel the wetness on her cheeks, attacking her unbidden once more. She then just realized what he really had meant to her. Suddenly, a whole new well seemed to break in her. Her soul cried out for him, yearned for him without even realizing it, she had to stop from the noise that threatened to escape her throat. “I hate you!” She screamed. “I hate you, Gods it would’ve been easier to hate you!” Her voice was hoarse, echoing off the empty expanse around her mockingly. “Hades!” Evelyn knew it was her own grave she dug. The moment she had met him she was already lost. “I didn’t want to kill you you fool!” She finally lost her footing. She collapsed to her knees once more and buried her face in her hands. With all her strength, she was reduced to this. “I miss you.” She whispered. 

“Gods I miss you.” Evelyn laughed, perturbed in her admittance. More so in her new found realization that she cared for the Ascian. She dare not say the words aloud but they were there, simmering, burning on her tongue. “But you know what I miss the most? It’s the conversation. The sheer freedom of talking to you was the highlight of my night.” She rubbed her eyes, her tears burning. “You could at least have told me why it hurts so much.” And finally, she allowed herself to sob, loud and uninterrupted, for a loss she didn’t completely understand. 


	8. Unfiltered Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay there's Thancred in this. I'm sorry it took longer then usual to get this out. I've started work again and those days tend to go on 40 hour weeks. Content released will slow but not to a standstill I hope. I was very much inspired by a conversation on tumblr for this chapter that made me giggle. I hope it's to your liking. Have fun and read on!

Emet-Selch had seen the men of his army partake in one to many drink in his day as Emperor. Rather then cheap ale he preferred a nice glass of wine next to a fireplace. His wife at the time had been rather fond of their days in the parlor before she died. They were quiet, seeing as how Emet-Selch wasn’t one for small idle chatter. She didn’t take a liking to his love of a lot of things, though she did seem to like his penchant for piano. Emet-Selch found himself mildly shocked that the Warrior of Light took to spirits so easily. It had only been a few days since their small tryst, should it even be called that. But here she was, laughing as if nothing had happened, the gunbreaker snickering at something she had said. To find that the warrior knew how to have fun was equally amusing. To find that she found that with Thancred of all people didn’t sit well in his stomach. 

Had they done this long with each other? Surely that night in Rak’tika was anything but normal. Would the gunbreaker have come out for anyone else? Would he go out and search for any one of his friends in the dead of the night? Emet-Selch rubbed the fur of his coat, as if lost in that moment when Thancred’s bullet nearly killed his vessel. It was certainly a theory. The further he delved into these mortals personal lives, or more specifically the warrior’s. The more he wanted to stay in his shadowy vigil and watch uninterrupted. He would bid his time, right now was not the crowning opportunity he wanted to take. 

“You never did tell me what happened in Rak’tika.” Thancred mentioned. “Honestly, I thought for a split moment that you should be the one scouting Garlemald.” 

Evelyn seemed to laugh, most likely at Emet-Selch’s expense. “Y-You mean when you nearly shot him? The look on your face after he kissed my hand was a sight.” 

The gunbreaker took another long drink to that, interesting. “He had it coming.” 

“Oh I don’t deny that. As a matter of fact I might pay gil to watch you tear him a new one.” She giggled.

“Call me any time Evelyn, I’d take an eye out for you.” 

The hero’s smile softened, that of a girls with a small crush or perhaps a whimsical thought crossed her mind. It was a smile that Emet-Selch only glimpsed and Thancred had completely missed. “Such the gentleman, what would I ever do without you Thancred?” 

Thancred scoffed. “Surely you’ll drink alone and pass out on the floor.” 

“Am I not the one that saved you from that drunken brawl in Ishgard? You nearly passed out the moment he hit you.” She accused. 

“Don’t try and change the subject.” 

Evelyn bit her lip and attempted not to burst in another fit of drunken giggles. “Touche, fine I shall tell you, it’s quite riveting.” Emet-Selch would have to remember should he ever find the Warrior of Light drunk to not take her for a light weight. The woman practically had her drinking partner on a leash at this point, and he wasn’t even half as drunk. “I was walking through the forest, minding my own business.” She began. She took another long swig of her ale. “Musing, thinking, until he shows up out of now where.” Her voice was growing increasingly louder, rolling her eyes as she went on. She was still angry? Emet-Selch would remember that for he was still nursing his pride from that stinging slap across his face. It was still sore. Emet-Selch was thankful that he didn’t need to show up to the Ocular with the slight bruise lining his jaw. 

“And?” Thancred presses, mostly likely wondering if this line of thought was going anywhere. 

“And…” Evelyn paused for a long while. She looked rather conflicted, like she wasn’t sure if she should say what was on the tip of her tongue. “We chatted.” What a poor excuse of an answer, but it wasn’t a lie. Emet-Selch had indulged her in light conversation.

“You chatted? That’s all.” Thancred crossed his arms, that was the voice of a man who couldn’t quite believe his ears. “That was the least riveting story I’ve heard since I’ve arrived at the First.” \ 

“Well what do you want me to say? That I pinned the man down and bedded an ascian. Or perhaps you’re expecting a tale where I’m in perilous danger from falling into the void with an ascian.” Thancred parted his lips, looking mildly disgusted. Evelyn continued before he could find the words. “Which, might I add that jumping into the void is not fun. It’s cold, and void-ish” 

Emet-Selch raised a brow. Had the warrior had a passing thought like that? Their tryst should have told him as much, after all why would she be so eager as to tug at his head of hair and force him back down onto her. He took it as rising emotions and that damn static in the air whenever he realized she was around. Emet-Selch came to the conclusion that she to felt something, however, he had wasted that damn truth magick on making her angry instead.

“I’m just concerned, that wasn’t just an ascian with the urge to help our cause, not that I think that’s his true motivation. I’m just at a loss at his newfound interest in you.” 

Evelyn took another long drink to that. “What’s there not to be interested in? I fight primals, save countries and worlds, oh and I kill ascian’s for a living. Even the crowned prince of Garlemald...” She started to laugh again, “Oh Thancred, even the crowned prince of Garlemald thinks I’m his friend. If he wasn’t psychotic I might take him up on his offer.” She slammed the table, finally realizing mayhap that she attracted a completely wrong crowd. “Why can’t normal people like me?” Evelyn rested a hand under her chin and looked thoughtfully out at nothing. “Why can’t I like normal people?” 

Thancred couldn’t help but smile. “My friend I believe that’s enough to drink for you.” He stole the tankard from her side of the table, leaving it out of reach. “So then enlighten me, does what he say speak true?” 

Evelyn tilted her head, leaning back in her chair thoughtfully. Emet-Selch felt the conversation slowly coming to a close, his time here was almost done. The warrior finally picked her head back up and sighed. “Listen Thancred, I’m not going to deny that he’s suspicious. He’s plotting there’s truth to that, and his drivel about cooperation is noticeably weak in argument, he is here to tell us something.”

“A kernel of truth?” Thancred echoed her earlier words 

“He’ll sure run us around in circles before he gets to the point however. So you steal the small things, the little words over the larger ones. He’s simply here to make us think harder on concepts we don’t understand.” Another pause, “And to kill me.” She added before reaching out to drink the rest of her ale. The thought perhaps bothered her. Emet-Selch couldn’t say why. 

He watched her take a dizzying stance on her feet. Thancred rested a hand at the small of her back, steadying her on her heels. Emet-Selch frowned. He was reminded of her sudden warmth, the minute his hand found her back it burned him. Everything about her burned him, as it did so long ago. Emet-Selch still did not have a an explanation other then the obvious for his sudden interest in the warrior. Seven times rejoined that she was, she did start to take on qualities that he thought he’d forgotten. As she started to leave, he took to her shadow until she was outside under the night sky. The gunbreaker leaned against the counter, watching closely. Emet-Selch questioned rather he was going to follow or not. He did not, instead he stayed back with a worrying frown on his face. Must he do everything? 

Emet-Selch watched as she slowly took herself home. It seemed that the cold air began to sober her up. There was no more giggling, no more laughter. In her wake was left introspection instead. Emet-Selch began to distinguish when she was lost in a train of thought. The warrior constantly thought, and thought, and even after that, she could not help but think on it more. Every time she was left with a book or a troubling report he watched her think on it. He did start to believe that the Scions did not give her enough credit. She poured over reports. Good Zodiark it was like watching his own memories flash before his very eyes. Evelyn stretched out her arms and turned in a circle, her heel catching on a loose plank of wood. Emet-Selch cursed. He didn’t think about it twice. His body moved on its own. His arm snaked around the warrior before gripping her wrist gently between his gloved fingers. 

There eyes met once more under that chilly night. Her hair spilled out from under her, her other hand gripping Emet-Selch’s coat. He felt aether reach out for his, searching inquisitively for what it knew to be familiar. Emet-Selch wanted to ask if she did it on purpose, if it was some sort of sick joke. No matter how long had passed his soul, his aether would always reach back out for that color, for that burning of what was hers. 

“My dear Hero, whatever am I to do with you?” His voice was low and suggestive. Emet-Selch felt her struggle in his grasp, pulling at his hand uselessly for a release. “If you are intoxicated might I suggest and escort back to your chambers? Tis’ never safe for a lady to walk alone.” He smirked. 

“Ascian.” She seethed, “Let me go!” 

Emet-Selch hummed, “I think not Hero, if I let you go I’ll drop you, and we can’t have you hitting your head.” 

“That bruise suits you, nursing your pride perhaps.” 

It irked him true but he didn’t move. “Believe me you, it won’t happen again warrior. I simply needs be swifter the next time you attack me with say a fist, or your lance.” Which he reminded himself was perilously close. A wonder why she hadn’t reached for it yet. 

“Let me up before I show you how distracted you really are.”

Emet-Selch smirked, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Why you should know better then to challenge an emperor, I’m known not to stop until I get what I want.” 

Evelyn fought off the heat that threatened to rush over her face. “And pray tell what is that?” 

“A thank you would suffice.” People were beginning to mumble in the background, he could feel the warrior tense under his hold. 

“Good Twelve, Thank you.” She replied curtly. 

Emet-Selch dipped her further down. “No, That wasn’t genuine 

Evelyn narrowed her eyes and became deathly still. Her other hand was fisted in his coat now. This was starting to become a sick game for him. How angry could Emet-Selch manage to make her before she lost it? He partially blamed it on her damn aether. It burned ever so bright when she was angry. He heard a sigh escape her lips. 

“I really didn’t want to do this.” She looked anywhere but at him. Her heard a shuffle of feet, before the hand that gripped his jacket was gone and her elbow was an ilm close to hitting him straight in the jaw. Emet-Selch had years of battle experience however and the shadows swallowed him before she met her mark. Evelyn found herself falling onto the wooden floor with a low thud. A moan left her lips, her hands reaching for her hips. Her elbows were scrapped from the impact. 

“Did I not tell you you would fall?” Emet-Selch couldn’t help the amusement that passed over him. Extending his hand would be poor judgment on his part. 

Evelyn glared at him, but stood up on her own. “You’re incorrigible.” 

“Come now Hero, isn’t this where we chat and make merry.” 

Evelyn turned on her heel and faced him. “Is that what you thought was going to happen tonight? Another chat? Are you bored so soon after our last encounter?” 

Emet-Selch placed a finger over his lips, savoring a very faint memory of crashing bodies and a searing kiss. “I rather enjoyed our last encounter. Now that I think about it, does dear Thancred know of your transgressions?”

“You have a way of ruining a good drink you know that.” Indeed, what remnants of intoxication were well gone. She was also avoiding the subject again. She was slowly beginning to turn away from him once more.

“This is a far cry from your personal curiously Hero. Why are you so angry with me? What did I do?” Emet-Selch followed her slow pace back to the Pendants. 

“Oh, I don’t know shall I name off my grievances?” The tavern was growing smaller behind them, the loud laughter growing even farther away. The shop stalls were shut down for the night and the Crystarium lights glowed unto their spires. “You ruined my day off, you’ve forced me voice thoughts that quite frankly…” She clenched her fists, her shoulders tightening. “Not only that you cornered me against a bookshelf and…” Evelyn quickly covered her face in shame. “How foolish I was, to think I could get somewhere with you. It seems to have only backfired.”

Emet-Selch sighed loudly, stretching out his arms dramatically as was his wont. “Must I be the voice of reason in every monumental situation.” He rubbed his temples only briefly. “Hero, set aside the fact we are indeed enemies and if I found it convenient I would kill you in your sleep.” 

“You could try.” She muttered under her breath.

“”That’s besides the point, you are defined by a title that a primal and mortal man has given you for your various deeds on the Source. Was it not freeing to just be as you are?” 

That gave her pause. She tilted her head and suddenly looked down at her feet, concerned. “That’s…” 

“I do know a thing or two about titles, and how exhausting they are. For a brief moment Hero you were raw, and unfiltered, and free to say whatever you pleased. Without the mother crystal baring at your back, or your Scions calling you for succor, or needing to run off and fight the next large beast in the vicinity. For one fleeting moment in your dull mortal life, you were free to be human, a woman.” 

Evelyn took in a shuddering breath, her fingers working their way through her knotted hair. Emet-Selch once more told himself it was to cure the boredom of the First. To make this play worthwhile he would need to act a part. In reality, he was perhaps just lonely and bored. The combination twisted into an unparalleled exhaustion that he struggled to cure. Emet-Selch every now and again did have a good piece of advice, he’d lived long enough anyway. 

“Come now Hero, don’t bore me now.” There was a long silence, far to long for Emet-Selch’s like. 

“Shall I strike you a deal then?” She replied thoughtfully. 

“A deal, you listened to my advice did you not?” 

“Oh, yes I did. I just don’t trust you with one of my well known secrets, so allow me to elaborate.” She continued at a faster pace, walking toward the Pendants with far more purpose then she did before. “I will converse with you whenever you please.” He could hear the faint echo of their footsteps as she ascended the stairs up to her chambers. “However, in exchange you must keep it to yourself. If I hear anything out of you that might lead the Scions to think anything I will cut you off. They need not know of our conversations or better yet, my sudden exhaustion. Nor of our—small tryst in Il Mheg.” She opened the door, and pushed it open, leaning against the door frame. Evelyn crossed her arms and tilted her head, no mirth or lies to be had. 

“I didn’t take you for someone who could be so conniving.” Emet-Selch smirked. What an interesting turn of events. 

“It is a simple exchange. You receive my company and I take your boon of silence, and your knowledge, however much you will permit.” Soft light spilled from her room. He could spot a table with a few loose books. “It is up to you. If not we can go back to titles. The Warrior of Light who came to the First to stop the ascian who hoped to rejoin the last of eight shards to the Source.” 

“Convincing, with nothing to lose on either side.” Emet-Selch didn’t deny that it was a bad idea. He could cure his boredom and the warrior achieved her privacy. There was no string, no undercurrent of a plot. It was just a mutually beneficial deal. 

“However, I do have one small rule. You must abide by it to prevent your own demise.” 

“Oh? I didn’t realize you were planning my death so soon. I’m flattered.” He attempted to take a step within her chambers. 

She took a step forward, unamused and not at all impressed. “We are not speak of work. If we are to shed titles as was your suggestion, we are to keep from talking about lightwardens, primals, The Source unless it unrelated to the current position we find ourselves in. Anything else is available to discuss.” 

“So if I were to bring up our last encounter?”

“That would be an appropriate discussion, I should remind you not to be shocked if you don’t receive a straight answer.” 

Emet-Selch’s expression lit up, something tugging at his lips that he couldn’t quite explain. “Why my dear, didn’t you know?” Evelyn moved back to the frame of the door, allowing him into her personal chambers. “I do love a challenge.” 

Emet-Selch could admit that this was the beginning of his downfall. If this was where it led, he thought perhaps he wouldn’t mind overall what happened in that dire, dark future. The door shut behind him, and a soft noise of chatter began.


	9. Darkness Incarnate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, Hey, I heard you liked the Glow of Auracite. This makes me happy. I also heard you like Emet-Selch. These are things we can agree on as a community. Here, I give you gifts <3 Have fun my lovelies.

Evelyn looked herself in the mirror and wasn’t sure which was worse. The fact that she looked even more exhausted then she ever did before or that her eyes were still puffy from crying up in Mt. Gulg. She watched the auracite dangle gently from her ears, the gold foliage glittering under the morning light of Kholusia. Coffee should suffice, Gods did she miss his coffee. He knew exactly how to make it, how sweet she liked it. Evelyn frowned, fingering the florescent auracite with golden clawed fingers. It was warm to the touch, soothing for her churning emotions. Her dreams were also a factor in her lack of sleep. She almost expected another hallucination of him, a glimpse, but she saw nothing, save for her poor health. 

“I wonder if I’ll die from sleep deprivation?” She grazed white fingers under her tired puffy eyes, careful not to break skin. She couldn’t count how many she had gotten. “Or perhaps if I pray hard enough the mine will come tumbling down on my head.” Her new dark sense of humor was not lost on her friends. Since her victory in the First she made many a joke about death.

It had several of them taking pause to truly listen to her madness. Evelyn felt her sanity continue to dwindle everyday. Her grief was all consuming and she felt like tearing herself apart from it alone. She finished wrapping her arm up, before sliding her gauntlet over her hand. She gripped her dragoon’s helmet with delicate fingers. The cold metal served to further wake her from her stray thoughts. If she didn’t pull up her hair, it would be a an awful hot mess after her mission. She asked if she even had the motivation to comb out her knotty hair. Coffee, she needed coffee. Why was there tea everywhere? She tugged at the knots and somehow found her arms dropping to the vanity table with a low thud. 

“An encouraging word or two.” Evelyn stood from her vanity mirror and took a step toward the middle of her room, her boots clacking against dark blue tile. Evelyn hoped that Chai changed the living conditions. This room was so excessively bright with its white walls and gold foliage twisting over corners and lining the backboards. She raised her arms in her mock theatrical fashion. She clapped loudly, as loud as he would when she refused to move. 

“Tick tok hero, no time to be lazing around.” Evelyn rolled her eyes, “Of course unless you’re the great Solus Zos Galvus with a power complex the size of Eorzea.” She frowned, she wasn’t sure that was pep talk she wanted. “Well, I suppose if you were still alive I wouldn’t be here talking to myself, in my bedroom, with red rimmed eyes the color of Nidhogg.” Evelyn went back to her vanity, taking her hair brush to absently comb through her painfully knotted hair. “Thanks anyway.” She muttered, the auracite seemed to warm, twinkling a little brighter under the daylight sun. 

  
The quick ride to Bright Cliff was brief. She slapped Cosmo’s thigh and had the chocobo run back to Eulmore without fuss. She had pinned her hair up and now it sat beneath her dargoon’s helmet comfortably enough, not one red hair out of place. There was a table spread out with blank canvas paper, the few villagers around Kholusia readying their ink to map out the forgotten mines. To the entrance were two Crystarium guards. Most likely to help with Kholusia’s dwindling resources. The gales already started to move in, a large gust pressing against her back, the whistling air echoing in her ears. That was just the sign she wanted. Was it a bad omen? She didn’t dare hope.

“I see the Exarch has given me extra hands.” She approached the guards with a half-smile. 

“Yes Madam, he bid us come to your aid in extinguishing the threat in Kholusia.” 

“It’s why I’ll be following you in madam.” The other stood straighter, his back tense. He wore the normal Crystarium uniform, a bow and a quiver on his back. He had hazel eyes and short brown locks of hair. He seemed new, but well versed in combat. However, she couldn’t help but wonder what led G’raha to think she needed extra hands. 

“I don’t remember asking for help.” 

“The Exarch was perhaps worried for your safety madam.” 

Evelyn pursed her lips. “I see, well then. Should I introduce myself. I’m Evelyn, I’ll be working with you to expunge the the Eulmorean’s from the caves today.” 

“Askold, a pleasure you meet you Evelyn, Warrior of Darkness.” 

“It seems they’ll be mapping out the mine as well. Lets hope we can make it safe to transverse.”

“Aye madam, shall we?” Askold extended his arm, allowing her to make her way through the arch’s entrance to the mine.

The wind whistled in her ears, the rattling of old lanterns bobbing back and forth. Askold lit a large lantern he’d brought in with him. The silence was deafening, and the disuse was obvious from the collecting spiderwebs. The fissures in the walls trickled out water, collecting in small puddles on the ground. Evelyn began to wonder if she should have brought a different weapon. There was no room for a dragoon in here. She rested a hand on her lance, a vain attempt at comfort. It did little to ease her racing thoughts.

“Why did the Exarch deem it necessary for an escort?” She asked again. 

“I don’t try and assume the Exarch’s decisions.” Askold laughed nervously. 

Did he have to be so obvious. He wasn’t here just to escort her, he was here to watch her. For what reason she couldn’t fathom. “I’m the Warrior of Darkness. My stupid luck and experience helps me maneuver through most battles.” Evelyn crossed her arms, stopping at the third arch of the mine, the beam cracked. The further they went in the more decrepit it became. There was loose stone littering the floor now, forgotten pickaxes and rusty shovels. It smelled wet, a drip in the background echoing across the cavern. “However, this isn’t a battle, not one that I can’t handle by myself. I’m fighting—” A word attempted to escape her lips, one she did not want to equate to a single person ever. “Mortals, not Primal’s or any form of beast. I’m relatively safe. So why did he send you.” 

Askold sighed, “He wasn’t lying when he said you were sharp.” The man’s posture changed, that nativity was gone and turned into one of solid knowing. “However, I only spoke the truth, he was worried. By the looks of it he has a good reason.” 

“Excuse me?”

Askold shrugged, “The circles under your eyes are anything but normal. Sleepless nights then is it?” 

Evelyn should have never let him see her face. Here she thought she was being polite. She knew there was a reason for her to keep her identity hidden from the rest of the world. “That’s certainly none of your business nor is it the Exarch’s. I can deal with my own issues by myself. I suppose I’ll have a few words for him when this is over about boundaries.” She never thought she would have to but with her delicate state of mind lately she couldn’t afford someone finding out what was really happening. Evelyn would be mortified. “Shall we continue?” She tried to sound indifferent rather then worried. Evelyn would need to be more careful then first imagined. 

She kicked out a cart that blocked the entrance further into Pit 8. Darkness swept over the walls, all encompassing. There wasn’t an ilm that the light could reach that still wouldn’t make it hard to see. Evelyn felt a sense of dread overcome her. There was an essence that left a bad taste in her mouth. It was old — Familiar even. Askold lifted the lamp to the darkness. It didn’t penetrate it in the least. This didn’t look good at all. 

“You’re going to have to go.” Evelyn pushed up her visor. She tested the darkness, reaching her hand out before pulling back as if burned. A visible shiver ran up her spine.

“What? Why? They’re just angry nobles.” Askold took a step but Evelyn threw an arm up, the tips of her gauntlet pressing into his chest piece. 

“No, this isn’t just agitated nobles anymore Askold, this is something far more nefarious.” What was it? It was on the tip of her tongue like so many things these passing moons. “Give me your lamp.” She couldn’t see a damn thing. 

“Will I get it back?” He seemed to be playing on the edges of humor but Evelyn found none of that within her today. 

“I highly doubt it, stay here, if I don’t come out then you may inform the Exarch that I am otherwise indisposed and in need of his help.” She wanted to roll her eyes and sigh loudly, but she refrained from such a reaction. The Exarch’s concern was after all nothing to scoff at. 

Askold gave her the lamp in his hand. “If you scream, I’m comin’ for you.” 

This time Evelyn did roll her eyes. “Duly noted.” She pushed the visor back down over her face and continued onward. 

Evelyn placed a hand on the wall next to her, relief washing over her at it’s solidness. She almost had wondered if it was just a pitch black hole. The air chilled exponentially. Evelyn couldn’t see anything, she continued to trip over rocks. The lamp that Askold gave her did little to help. She moved to the ground and placed her lamp in the dirt. Footprints were still present, however fresh was another story all together. She took it upon herself to be far more stealthy. Evelyn only wished that Thancred was here to lead her, he was far better at this than she was. Evelyn picked up the lamp and maneuvered her way even further into the mine. Her feet became quiet, and her eyes slowly started to adjust to the unnatural darkness. She could see shapes on the ground now, but nothing more then that. 

Her hand pressed up against the wall again. A few steps further and she found empty space next to her. It was another gaping dark hole. One that she could not see into and thought twice before stepping further in. Evelyn finally took her lance in her hands, and took one tentative step forward. A rage of fire lit up torches that hung at the walls, glowering in reds and oranges. Her shoulders tensed but she kept calm. There was a large table in the middle of the empty room. Books were brimming and toppling over each other. Evelyn lowered her lance and took a book between her hands. It was leather bound, worn, but still in good condition. It was the language that concerned her. What was it? 

Pain radiated across her temple. Evelyn dropped the book to the ground. She felt herself tense once more, turning swiftly with her lance to glimpse at the entrance. Still no movement. She took the book from the hard ground and then just realized what language she was looking at. Evelyn’s first questions raced across her mind at a speed she couldn’t comprehend. None of it made sense, and she didn’t want to try and make sense of it. There was an ache in her heart at the sight. Evelyn gripped the book between her fingers. She had to take a deep breath before she continued to rifle through the rest. They were all the same language, all bound in old pages and leather. Evelyn couldn’t read an ilm of it, but she wanted to. She wanted to know why it was here at all. 

Suddenly, she found herself frozen, staring down at a small pocket book. It was the one that looked achingly familiar, one that tugged at her heart every time that she saw it. A single name entered her thoughts but she dare not speak it aloud. Instead, she took a few of the tomes, including the small book. She needed to go, now. Whatever was going on it was far more then just Eulmore and its angry villagers now. Evelyn tilted her head around the corner, her bag that was slung across her shoulder full of books. It was heavy to carry but a few Eulmoreans were nothing. She hadn’t spotted any beasts so far. She assumed it safe. The mine went even further down into a slope now. The air quality dwindled quickly, and the chill became more noticeable. Her lamp began to flicker and wane, before dying into an ember. 

“Wicked white.” She cursed. There wasn’t even a breeze but the fire finally died out anyway. Evelyn frowned, and lowered the lamp to the ground. It was no use here now and a burden to carry further down. 

It was when she started to see a dim violet glowing light, did she truly begin to worry. She could see pillars and wide arches made of rock. It seemed like a hidden temple of sorts. Something fairly recent Evelyn assumed. Evelyn finally found that streak of adrenaline. She moved silently and pressed her back against the pillar. She turned her head, and froze for the second time that day. Evelyn’s mouth went dry, her eyes widening at the spectacle before her. She could only think one name to give it. The large corrupted crystal that stood in front of her. It was that very God that had found it necessary to take lives like pawns on a chest board. It wasn’t because he wanted to, it was because he was created to. Her attention turned to the few Eulmorean’s that were there, worshiping the dark crystal as if it was truly hale and whole. 

It was simply impossible. She contemplated how the Eulmoreans came to know about the existence of such an old primal. Her mind had to convince herself that it was simply a crystal. It could do nothing, not without a summoning, and even then it wouldn’t be the real Zodiark. She moved her foot slightly to the right before a rock clattered. Heads turned, and found her standing there, starstruck and confused. 

“Halt, who goes there!” One of them shouted. 

“It’s an intruder!” 

No point in hiding now. They were just mortal, right? Praying to a thousand year old primal didn’t make it otherwise. Evelyn stepped out from behind her hiding spot. “Lovely, just what I wanted to find, Eulmoreans praying to an existence older then they realize.” She summoned up her strength, a visage of a blue dragon wrapping about her body. This wasn’t going to be fun. 

They charged, without so much a second thought. Evelyn jumped in the air, the ceiling was thankfully high enough to dive back down, a rage of fire consuming the few that bundled up in a group. Evelyn’s first concern was getting rid of that crystal, the second was getting out and away from the Eulmorean’s that deemed it necessary to fight her. She flipped her lance and hit another in the gun. They were all just human, that’s all they were. There was no need for blood in this battle, she absolutely refused. With practiced footwork Evelyn moved across the floor, the violet color of crystal leaving her glowing under the pitch darkness. She felt a burning sensation in her shoulder. An arrow from the darkness had found its way through her flesh. The dark figure shot another but Evelyn was quick on her feet. Instead she twisted her body, before pushing off the ground and finding her mark. She raised her hands high over her head, the end of her lance hitting him hard in the stomach. 

She was stronger, far to resilient for these Eulmorean’s — No, cultists to reach their mark on the Warrior of Darkness. Evelyn broke off the arrow and threw it to the ground. “I truly do pity the fool that convinced you this was a good idea.” Evelyn stumbled, her breath hitching in her lungs. She dug the end of her lance into the ground, eyes fluttering. Fast acting poison, this wasn’t good. There were still far to many of them. She wouldn’t make it out alive. 

She wouldn’t make it out alive. It echoed in her ears. The thought of sweet release made her almost fall to her knees. He was dead, why not… Evelyn glared at the crystal that continued to glow faintly. No, Evelyn couldn’t go just yet. If she could gear up for Stardiver perhaps there was a chance however slim it was to at least break it. Evelyn bit her lip, the pain waking her up from the poison coursing through her veins. One of the few cultist’s met her gaze, and he knew exactly what she would do before her death. Should it even come to that. 

“Stop her!” 

Arrows flung outward, far more archers hiding in the confines of the darkness. However, Evelyn was already moving, diving back downward from the ledge the archer was on back towards the ground, another set of flames lit up the empty cavern. They wouldn’t stop her until she was on the ground and Evelyn found herself precariously close. She managed up as much strength as was allowed. She pivoted her hips, looking up toward the ceiling momentarily before jumping high up in the air. She used her body and dove down, down, down, until the tip of her lance hit the crystal. There was a force of aether that hit her face. She could see the corrupted violet soar outward into the cave, expelling itself through the mines. She could only hope that Askold escaped. She was suddenly flung backward by the impact, the other cultists out and unconscious. Evelyn hit a wall and slid down to the ground, a growing pain in her back she hadn’t realized could hurt so much. 

She groaned, watching the crystal slowly crack down the middle, more aether leaving the large rock and oozing out into the mines. The sheer amount of it overwhelmed her, she could feel her consciousness fade slowly. A sudden low rumbling shook the mine, rocks tumbling from the ceiling only to hit the floor. Oh, this was her end. She couldn’t move, the poison running in her blood far to quickly. Evelyn threw her helmet off. The thing clattering to the ground. Perhaps it was that she was tired, but being entombed under Kholusia, was a shite way to go. By poison no less. Evelyn didn’t see it, but the auracite glowed, brighter then that morning. Darkness began to descend, her vision leaving her with terrifying haste.

“—ero” There was a distant voice. “—ero” Who was Ero? “Hero, wake up!” 

Evelyn’s eyes flew open, she frantically searched for that voice. She could hear him, but he was so far away. She could feel velvet robes against her cheek, cool and calming to her otherwise heated body. Whatever it was she imagined it to be him, to be her friend in the darkness. Her very own secret, the one she would never speak of aloud. What was she doing again? Her eyes could only see a figure, but she couldn’t see their face. She reached out for the face in question and met cold skin. She smiled and hummed. 

“Am I dead?” She muttered, “If I was somehow that’d be reassuring.” She felt hands tense beneath her, but no other words escaped her mystery figure. “It’s where he is after all.” Her voice felt hoarse, it hurt to talk. “I’m sorry Hades, I’ve made a horrible mistake.” She felt her chest hitch, something wet against her face. “I miss you.” Then, she remembered only more darkness forward. 


	10. Love of Coffee and Garleans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually write a lot of BL so this is new territory for me. I had a lot of fun teasing our WoL though. I actually did have a lot of fun writing this. I hope you enjoy it X3 I thank the bookclub and their continued support. I just hope I caught a few eyes from there as well. >W< Thank you so much

Emet-Selch wasn’t one to be waited on. Even when he was still empire he required his subordinates to have a certain finesse over their time management. If they were late, they were receiving an earful from the Legatus. So how was it that Emet-Selch was waiting in the Warrior of Light’s chambers? How did this come to pass? Emet-Selch rested an elbow on the table he sat at. His coat was forgotten on the back of the chair. There were a few scattered books here and there that he pushed aside. There was a recent book she had dogeared. It came as a shock considering it was an old portrait of himself as Solus Zos Galvus. It was curious, while he knew her to be quite the bookworm, he didn’t expect her to look into his history or even take an interest in Garlamald at all. He took a side-glance at the book before quickly taking it between his gloved fingers. What had the Eorzeans considered Garlean history? Emet-Selch skimmed it of course, he could never sit down and read something that he had been present for. He yawned, a creak of a door echoing off the walls of the warrior’s chambers. 

“And here I thought the Hero had given me reason to doubt her word. Full glad am I that it was just my imagination.” 

He received a groan from the warrior. She was never one to say much before her routine bath. He imagined the toils of her work heavy on her shoulders. When she walked through those doors, she was not to be considered the Warrior of Light, she was just to be a woman with far to much to think about. He too fell under that rule, but Emet-Selch didn’t speak about himself over long, he always found a way to turn the conversation in his favor. He had years of experience with such things, not even the warrior could win that game with him. Emet-Selch moved his way to a cabinet, he was going to fall asleep at this point and he felt a good cup of coffee would do him well. There were mugs, but no coffee. Must he do everything? He snapped his fingers, conjuring a steaming metal pot of coffee. 

Soft feet could be heard on the wooden floor. Evelyn stood there, in her black undershirt and trousers. For her armor, she had said. To keep the sharp bits from cutting into her skin. Water droplets spilled over her neck and dripped onto the floor, pulling back her hair seemed to do little for the elezen warrior. “What are you doing Ascian?”

“Since you lack proper time management, I found myself in need of some coffee.” Emet-Selch took the handle and returned to the table where the book of Garlean history still laid open. 

“The First doesn’t have coffee.” The Hero narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “The land is far to sparse for that.” 

“Yes, a terrible loss on their part.” Emet-selch snapped his fingers once more. “Coffee?” he turned up a small mug that sat on a ceramic saucer. 

“What is this a farce? You couldn’t make me tea?”

Emet-Selch raised a brow. He wondered what happened to her to make her trust so little of everything around her. Everyone she spoke to she took their words with a measure of caution. Wasn’t the Warrior of Light supposed to be a beacon of hope? “Am I not allowed to share a warm gesture with my company?”

Evelyn scoffed. “That warrants you being warm ascian and as far as I can tell you’re rather cold.” 

“And your touch burns like Ifrit’s flames but you don’t hear me complaining of such things.” He turned up her small mug and poured a generous amount of coffee in her cup. 

“Did you — Just compliment me within an insult?” Her voice was thick with disbelief. 

Emet-Selch took a sip of his coffee, his expression bordering on hidden amusement. “You’ve found me out Hero.” He placed a hand on his chest, a slow smirk reaching his lips. “Why, I’ve been complimenting you this entire time. How clever your mind works.” 

Evelyn fingered the rim of her cup absently. “I’m positive that was an insult.” She bit her lip, playing with the flesh between her teeth. “This isn’t poisoned right?” 

“Hero, if I truly wanted you dead, you would be dead. It would be a simple matter. Anyway, poison is boring. I shall give you a far more glorious death.” 

Evelyn attempted to look indifferent, but behind that curtain Emet-Selch swore he saw a ilm of relief. “I do hope you’ll keep your word.” She finally took a long sip of her coffee. 

There was a pause. Emet-Selch’s glanced her in the corner of his gold eyes, as if waiting for something. There was a soft clatter. The warrior’s gaze contorting into what could be considered confusion. There was a wash of hope that filled Emet-Selch. How did she manage to make his heart still for the briefest of seconds with one look? 

“Gil for your thoughts Hero?” Emet-Selch pulled the book of Garlemald’s History, bound in leather and gold borders. 

“I—” Her soul wound up tighter into a ball, the slivers of Hydaelyn’s light squeezing and ensnaring her color needlessly. “It’s surprisingly lovely coffee.” She whispered, lowering her gaze down to the table. “It tastes like home.” 

“Hazelnut.” He dared not say more, he was eager to say more, but it would avail him not. Not with that infernal light. 

“I don’t care for coffee, you would be the first to change my mind with one cup.” She smiled, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

Emet-Selch turned away, a frown on his thin lips. She needed to stop doing that. There were just small things that made his soul ache. It took every onze of him not to reach out for her. While he was completely aware of the consequences of accepting her terms he wasn’t quite expecting it to be so hard pressed to keep his hands to himself. It was her damn aether and her damn soul. Damn them both. Emet-Selch clenched his fist over the book. 

“And pray tell, where is home for the Warrior of Light.” 

The warrior gripped her mug suddenly. She took another sip of her coffee and shrugged. “Ishgard? But perhaps not. I don’t really have a home.” She thumbed the ceramic. “I left Ishgard ten years ago. Before Dalumald. Before that—” She hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I’ve always been alone. I don’t remember it being otherwise until five years after when the Scions recruited me.” She seemed to come to some sort of realization. “I have a sense of family. The Scions are my family, but home? Home is something I’ve never experienced.” She laughed, “So, when I say it tastes like home, perhaps I have no clue what I speak of. Even you have a better concept of that then I do.” 

“I have lived over lifetimes, it has been eons since I’ve been home. I can sufficiently say that I don’t know what that is either.” Or so he convinced himself. 

Evelyn took another drink of her coffee before pushing the cup away. “Riddle me this Ascian. Do you have a clear picture of Amaurot in your head? Can you smell the air, or feel the texture, remember a face or two? A conversation? Or even, perhaps who you spent time with?” 

Emet-Selch’s jaw went taunt, his shoulders bristled. Amaurot and its cascading skyscrapers reaching the pinnacle of the heavens, the myriad of souls journeying through the Underworld. The soft conversations in the Hall of Rhetoric. He could feel the silk of hair through his fingertips, the soft laughter in a bedroom on the top floor of an apartment. A cupboard of tea boxes falling over his head. Cold air in the morning, the smell of clear rain water wafting through the window over a hot cup of coffee on the couch. Emet-Selch stopped himself from shuddering. Lonely, memories, that he could only remember. He felt something warm on his face, fingertips grazing his cheek gently, and green eyes blazing into his own. 

“That is what home is, whatever you just thought of. I have no such concept.” Emet-Selch resisted the urge to grab her hand in his. He could feel her aether pooling in her fingertips, and his soul responded in turn against his will. 

“Hero, you’re invading my space.” Emet-Selch smirked, enjoying the heat that came from her fingers however callused they were from her lance work. 

Evelyn pulled her hand back and focused her gaze on the coffee pot. “Shut up, you looked rather pathetic so I thought to break you from your reverie.” 

Eemt-Selch heard the lie in her voice but allowed it to pass. “A subject change perhaps.” 

“You only get one.” She muttered, pouring herself another cup. 

“Why hero, I do believe if that were the case you’ve already used yours all up.” 

“Fine we both have two left.” Because she absolutely knew what he would ask if there was only one each. Which meant, that if Emet-Selch asked the most uncomfortable questions he could ask the one he truly wanted an answer to. The Warrior of Light had her moments but she was far to fragmented to have an advantage over him who still was wholly intact.

“Are you sure you’re not just trying to escape answering my most pressing question?” He watched her as a cat would when ready to pounce on his prey. 

Evelyn frowned. “Which one would that be Ascian?” She tried to hide a sense of knowing behind her coffee mug, Emet-Selch saw right through her.

Emet-Selch pressed a finger to his lips, a ghost of hers pressing up against his. The memory in itself intrigued him. While Emet-Selch understood what had happened between them, she still sat in the dark grasping for an answer out of reach. He hoped that she could push aside her nerves and find it to ask herself why. “Why Hero the reason you so viciously attacked my mouth with yours.” 

Evelyn sputtered, the mug clanking against its saucer. “Don’t say it like that!” There was a faint flush of red over her cheeks, her expression indignant of his question. 

Emet-Selch’s smirk only turned more devious. “Did I hit a nerve Hero?” Using her own words against her. “I do say your curiosity with me has grown considerably since we’ve last spoken. I can’t imagine what had you pick this up for light reading.” Emet-Selch pushed the book towards her, opening it to his visage as Solus. “If you wanted a retelling of Garlean History, well, You have Solus Zos Galvus himself at your table.” 

“I—” Her face was turning as red as her hair now. 

“So it would lead me to believe my dear Hero that our encounter was more then just a farce.” 

“A would call it a large mistake on my part.” She tugged on a strand of hair that had fallen over her shoulder, avoiding his eyes, afraid what she would find there.

“Really, is that why your fingers were bunched up at the back my head?” Her hands rested beneath the table now, her soul tightening even further into a ball of nerves. Her could imagine how she would wring her fingers, calloused pads moving over knuckles. It was good that some things never changed.

“Shall I tell you what it really was?” Emet-Selch stood up, rested a hand at his chest and outstretched the other, his skirts rustling under tense silence. 

“Don’t assume that you know me Ascian, you’ll lose a limb.” The corner of her lips turned down. 

Emet-Selch found the strength to continue his small part in making her as uncomfortable as possible. He turned his back, and like an over dramatic theater troop he flung an arm out and rested a hand on his chest. “Shall the Ascian reveal my true feelings? Ones I might not speak aloud? For mine are surely treasonous in nature, they can only be such if they are for an ascian. My one true enemy. The heat of his fingers, a gaze that makes mine heart race, why it can only be the danger that attracts me so, the adrenaline he inspires in I.” Emet-Selch slammed his hands down against the table, leveling his gaze on hers. She jumped, her soul squirming, aether bubbling ready to swell and boil over. “For he can kill me with a snap of his fingers.” The sound of a snap echoed off the walls, his voice an octave lower, suggestive. He stretched himself over the table, his lips inches from her ear. “As far as I can tell Hero, the lines are sufficiently blurred, that even I cannot keep denying it.” 

And suddenly, the coffee was forgotten, and the world fell away. The warrior’s hands were fisted in his regalia, her lips pressed hard against his. Her aether unwound and spilled out in a stream. Evelyn took his bottom lip between hers and bit down between kisses and labored breath. Emet-Selch reached out, his gloved fingers sliding down her sides toward the small of her back. A gentle sigh left her as she pulled back. “Do you—” Emet-Selch pulled her back before she could finish. A surprising moan left her before she pulled back once more. “Ever shut up?” 

Emet-Selch smirked. “There are only a few things to stop me from speaking Hero.” He kissed the corner of her lips, moved across her jawline slowly. “True disbelief, and you my dear.” The coffee cups clattered about the table. Evelyn climbed over the table in a desperate attempt to become closer. 

Her hands reached around his neck, pressing small circles into his skin. She was undone, and all because Emet-Selch had pulled a string and unraveled it all. She seemingly jumped from the table and wrapped her legs around him, pressing her chest up against his own. Her fingers found his face, pulling his attention back toward her lips. Emet-Selch’s hands found her arse and kept her in place, carrying them both to the edge of the bed. It wasn’t exactly something he thought to be acquainted with right away, but here they were. 

Emet-Selch’s legs hit the back of the bed. He took a seat and allowed the warrior a comfortable position in his lap. He felt her freeze beneath his touch, her fingers pausing their ministrations on his neck. Emet-Selch couldn’t deny the heat pooling in his mortal vessel, nor the excitement buzzing within his soul. Her aether was driving him mad, her soul so very close to his, closer then it had been in nigh years. His gloved fingers cupped cheeks, rubbing a reassuring digit against her temple. 

“Fear not Hero, this goes as far as you let it.” He was breathless, his gaze molten. Hers searched for the truth in his words, her pupils dilated. She pushed him down into the soft bed below him, covered in even softer blankets and plush pillows. “Or perhaps you’re just an eager little savage for an ascian’s further attention.” 

“What did I say about talking?” She muttered, She took a gloved thumb between her teeth, tugging at the fabric. 

Emet-Selch pulled his hand away from her mouth. He wasn’t completely sure taking his gloves off were the best idea in this case. He was keenly attuned to her soul and aether. The more he was next to her the stronger it became. Without that wall in between them he became far more sensitive then he cared to admit. Instead he concentrated on the hem of her shirt, fingers exploring the dip of her waist, the roundness of her breasts. She shuddered as a finger ghosted over a pert nub. Evelyn arched her back and let her head drop, eyes on anything but his smug smirk. Emet-Selch gripped her lower back and arse, throwing her onto her bed completely. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t elaborate did I?” He whispered in her ear. He took a loose strand of red hair in his hand and brought it to his lips. “I did say you had control of the pace not of the situation we find ourselves in.” He found her neck once more, leaving barely visible marks. She found a his head full of hair and tugged hard at it. The warrior smelled like fresh flowers and soap, her skin much like the sun’s heat, a balm to his otherwise cold skin. 

“Emet…” 

Emet-Selch pulled away and trailed a finger down between her breasts toward her abdomen. “You look entirely unwound Hero.” He hovered at the waistband of her trousers, playing with taunt lean muscles. Her hair was sprawled out beneath her, her face turned away from him, an attempt to hide the heat that reached to her pointed ears. Her soul was reaching out for him, attempting to find something that was long lost. Her aether was already attempting to mingle with his. He was half tempted to allow it. Almost. He dipped his finger between her and her waistband and snapped it it back. “To the point you can’t even say my name right, a shame.” 

When he met her lips once more it was chaste, and gentle. If this continued any further he wouldn’t be able to keep himself under control of his own emotions. He could already hear the frustration leaving her throat. She attempted to find him with her hands once more but he stopped her, gripping her wrists gently. “Now Hero, should we go further there’s not turning back.” He kissed the tip of her chin gingerly. 

“What if I want to continue?” She arched her back, her knees hitting one another to attempt to control the sudden heat between her legs. 

“We could, but that ilm of doubt in your eye gives me pause. I want a willing plaything not one that second guesses.” Emet-Selch took a deep breath and stood from his position. He flattened out his skirts that were bunched up on the bed. “There lies an issue with your honesty as well. You still haven’t told me why you viciously attacked me back at the Bookman’s Shelf.” 

She shot up and glared at him. “What! Was this the only reason you—” 

“That I baited you into attacking me a second time? I have to admit it was shockingly easy to convince you to jump over the table.” 

Evelyn groaned. “I wish you wouldn’t call it that, and you didn’t convince me to jump over the table.” She was still sitting there red in the face and in shambles. 

Emet-Selch pushed down the back of his hair that was found out of place. “And what might you call it? Every time you pull on me it feels as if you’ll throw me to the ground first.” 

Evelyn rolled her eyes. “I am not that strong, you’re completely over exaggerating.” Emet-Selch just shrugged, a devious half smile playing on his lips. “Not only that why are you the one pulling back first I thought…” 

“Oh, what did you think Hero? That I was going to ravage you this night? As much as you moaning my name brings me such bliss I am still a gentleman.” Emet-Selch yawned, stretching his limps out dramatically. “And after all that I find that I am in need of a long nap. You’re terribly exhausting dear.” 

It left her rather speechless, leaving her as he did. The look of shock was something to savor. He imagined her rather bothered for the rest of the night, unable to settle after their tryst. Perhaps he should have stayed for a private show but that would destroy his statement from earlier. He fought off the urge, and instead thought of his next move. He would start building tonight. He would bring her home, one way or another. 


	11. Waking Up in the Wrong Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a G'raha, he's so wholesome I love him. He's like the bestest friend and WoL can never be angry with him.

Evelyn remembered the warmth of a bed and a singular man. One that would wrap his arms round her and lull her to sleep with nothing but the comfort of his presence. She would idle in bed for a while, batting away his chiding to wake up. Hypocritical, because he was the one that took long naps in trees. He must have rubbed off on her. It was entirely his fault really. One day he bid her stay in bed and scared off the rest of the Scion’s from her room, how he did, she did not know nor did she care to ask. What she enjoyed was the thought of sleep at the time. 

The same could be said now. There was a warmth pressed up against her back, hot breath tickling her neck. She squirmed, receiving only a smile against a bare shoulder in response. Whoever it was she didn’t want to move. She could feel the cascade of the sun hit her face, but even then she didn’t want to open her eyes. She felt a strand of hair pulled back from her face and a soft whisper in her ear. She couldn’t make sense of it at first. Evelyn craned her neck and opened her eyes only slightly. But when she wanted to see the face of her bedmate he pulled her to his chest and hid himself from her sight. 

“I can’t have you spying my visage just yet.” He sounded distorted, barely like a man. “You need to wake up first.” 

Evelyn moaned, she couldn’t find it in herself to care who it was. Whoever held her melted most of her fear away. She reached out and gripped his back, legs tangled under soft feather down covers. “A shame, you’re warm.” Evelyn paused, “I’m dreaming against aren’t I?” She could feel someone’s chin rest upon the crown of her head. 

“A mixture of both reality and a dream.” The voice replied. 

“That sounds entirely to complicated right now.” She could hear low laugh escape his lips. “I’m going back to sleep.” She murmured. 

“You can’t go back to sleep, not here.” The voice held an undercurrent of desperation, his arms became tighter around her. 

“But I’m so tired. Can’t I rest but a moment.” Why wouldn’t anyone just let her sleep. Gods what she would do to get a good nights sleep. 

“It took me this long to wake you it would be remiss if I let you fall back asleep.” 

Why did Evelyn get the feeling that this was more then about sleep? She suddenly had the urge to view her surroundings, where was she? She pushed against the firm body against her, forgetting to even glace at him before turning her head toward the window where the light cascaded through. She was in a room, she very nearly recognized. There was an old desk with scattered paperwork, three bookshelves pressed up against an empty wall. They were old Amaurotine books, lined with leather and loose ribbon bookmarks. In the corner of her sight she could spot green ivies growing down over the window sill, sticking to the apartment building outside. 

“Amaurot.” She said breathlessly. She suddenly turned her head and before she could even say his name, to call him out and ask all the questions that threatened to fall from her lips. Instead, she shot up somewhere else, struggling for breath. Her chest burned, and her limbs were heavy. She felt as if she hadn’t breathed in fresh air for a week. A thin sheen of sweat graced her forehead, her eyes felt as dry as her throat did. Her hair stuck to her face uncomfortably so. She took in her surroundings, and found that she was in the Spagyrics. Empty beds lined up next to hers, circular shelves not to far, littered with potions and loose books. She could still feel the heat of his back, his arms tightly wound around her waist. What an odd dream to wake up from. 

“Oh, she’s awake, call the Exarch!” The chirurgeon pushed her back down against the pillows. “You shouldn’t get up yet, it’s been a few days. We were worried, it was a touch and go there for a sun or so.

So she had been out for a few days. Why was she here, she was sure that the mine would have crushed her. Evelyn just about jumped out of her bed again. Someone had saved her. She remembered — No, that was impossible, she had killed him, shattered his soul and left him to trickle into the Lifestream. Even her praying to Hydealeyn was not enough, she refused to believe that. Still, that nickname echoed in her ears. ‘Hero’ He called her, never to speak her name. It became a game between the two of them. She affectionately named him Ascian in spite of her own nickname he dawned onto her. 

She must have really started to lose it. It wasn’t enough that she cried at random moments in the day, or that she spotted him in the corner of her eye. She turned her head for affect, and found nothing out of the ordinary. She couldn’t forget the grief that filled her if she thought to hard about him. It still gnawed at her, digging its teeth into her mangled heart and using it like a chew toy. 

“Evelyn.” G’raha came running through the Spagyrics, his sandals clacking against the wooden floor. His ears were pinned down, tail swishing back and forth nervously. “Oh thank the Twelve, you’re okay.” G’raha looked as tired as she still felt. There were tired bags under his eyes, a resignation in his gaze that worried her. Evelyn didn’t notice before but there was a chair tucked at the wall next to her bed. He’d been waiting for her to wake up. Did the Scions know? Did G’raha sent out a missive? That was all she needed was for Thancred to scold her for being so reckless, or worse yet, Y’Stola. 

Evelyn didn’t know why but the longer they stayed on the First the more she was babied by the two, watched over like a child lost in the woods. Even after they managed to make it back to the Source, Thancred often came back to the Rising Stones in attempts to catch her. Y’stola often sent her missives asking for help with this and that when she could do it all herself. It had her wonder what she did to deserve such attention. She felt a hand on hers, the warmth only secondary to what she was used to. 

“What in the world were you thinking. When Askold came back without you I began to worry. Then we heard the mine collapsed I nearly had a heart attack. We were attempting a rescue mission but by all their evaluations…” She could hear the quiver in his voice, the abstract uncertainly of her surviving it thick in the way he spoke. “I told them that the Warrior of Darkness was there, that it wasn’t right to…” He couldn’t even finish his sentence, it was cut off by a single tear. 

“Oh G’raha.” Evelyn couldn’t even fathom ever being angry at the Exarch. She raised a good hand to his face, wiping the stray tear away. “As you can see by some miracle I yet live.” She wasn’t expecting it, but his arms wrapped around her, his face buried in her shoulder. Full glad was he that she yet breathed. Silly mystel and his admiration would kill him. Evelyn felt awful now. That she could even think about accepting her death as quietly as she did in that deep darkness made her want to tear her hair out. Slowly, she raised her arms and wrapped them around G’raha’s otherwise taunt form. She was careful to not let her sharp claws rip at the fabric of his robes. She could feel wet tears on her bare shoulder. A swift sense of protectiveness overcoming her. She couldn’t do this again. There were still people that cared and relied on her. Evelyn found herself being selfish in her thoughts. She wasn’t supposed to be selfish.

“I’m sorry, truly.” She murmured it into locks of hair, forcing his ears to twitch in response.

“I was so relieved when word spread you were at Spagyrics. Someone brought you through and left you in a cot alone.” It was a murmur, a whisper she barely heard.

So someone did save her. Evelyn wanted to believe it was who she thought it was but the possibility was gone. He would have soaked up the glory, said something alone the lines of ‘Why must I do everything? Isn’t it your responsibility to take care of your warrior?’ Leaving her alone seemed close to impossible. So who had come to her rescue? Evelyn thought that perhaps it would be wise to let it lie dead and unanswered. She felt G’raha pull away wiping his eyes with the back of his palms. 

He grunted, “Forgive me, that was not graceful of me at all.” 

“Never say sorry for crying G’raha, it doesn’t suit you.” Evelyn smiled, pushing back a loose lock of hair. Her shoulder was bandaged up tightly. Her undergarments wrinkled from staying in bed far to long, the black fabric stained where the arrow had hit. “Ugh, it was the bad arm wasn’t it, I can still feel the hole in my shoulder.” 

G’raha smiled sadly. “Yes, unfortunately the chirurgeons didn’t have much aether to work with, that arm is bare of any magical inclination.” G’raha stared at her hand, a sense of guilt coming over him. “Evelyn I—” 

Evelyn raised her white hand and stopped him there. “G’raha, I know what you want to talk about and I am going to remind you that this—” She waved golden claws around. “Is not your fault. You didn’t make me absorb the light.” 

G’raha gazed down at his hands, staring awfully hard at his own crystallized arm. He was to different in that aspect. The Crystal Tower had changed him as much as the light had changed Evelyn. Even now G’raha could see the barely visable scales running over her neck, the white streak in that one emerald eye. Evelyn always could tell when he stared to long, it made her uncomfortable. She didn’t like bringing attention to her changes. 

“None of this is your fault.” She gestured to her face with a clawed hand. “The downside of being Warrior of Darkness.” 

“I just can’t help but feel responsible, your aether is permanently changed where the light has deigned to leave its mark. I can’t imagine it’s easy.” 

Evelyn could blame him if she truly wanted to. But what would be the point? He didn’t force her to absorb the light. He didn’t know that it would irrevocably change her. Evelyn had no one to blame. She could blame Emet-Selch perhaps, but she never wanted to think of him over to long. He did his best to quell the light when she needed it. 

“It’s not easy, no, if you really want to know, I bandage it everyday to keep from people staring, touching anything is hard, I feel as if I’ll break it. I have to be careful not to touch people with it. Seeing as its cold to touch and my claws are rather sharp. But I’m learning to deal with it. Just as you learned to deal with your changes.” Evelyn shrugged. “It is what it is G’raha. I have learned long ago that I am simply to play a grander part in a very old war. It is my duty even if I have sin eaters arm.” Evelyn pursed her lips. “Which if you think about it, I can cut someone with this, the satisfaction of flesh on my fingers does give me a rise.” She smiled, though it did not touch her eyes. 

A wash of relief overcame the Exarch, then a fit of laughter left him, his back shaking. “I do pity the fool that decides to incur your ire then.” 

“Listen, if it’ll make you feel better, I could use some help wrapping it back up. I can’t have my claws hanging out around people after all.” 

The Exarch turned a slight shade of red. “If it would please you to let me.” 

“I would be more then happy if you did G’raha, now more pressing matters, yes? My books did they make it?” 

G’raha’s light-hearted relief turned into worry very quickly. “Yes, the books inside—” He paused. “It’s no language that I’m familiar with, the Cabinet is at a loss as well.” 

Evelyn turned her head in thought. “I would be worried if everyone on the First began to understand Amaurotine.” 

“What?” G’raha’s gaze was fierce, his expression descending into confusion and wonderment. “That’s impossible, you said that the Aynder was completely submerged in The Tempest.” 

“And it was, until it wasn’t. The Ondo had control of it, kept its secrets until we ran through and cleared out the remaining beasts. It was beautiful.” Evelyn furrowed her brows. “I don’t remember running into any books however. It was mostly crystals and visages of a time immemorial. I can’t imagine a library from Amaurot surviving.” There was a twinge of sadness in her voice that she didn’t quite understand. Like so much she didn’t understand when her thoughts turned to that glorious city. Come to think of it when did her view of Amaurot becoming one of admiration? 

“This is becoming far more complicated.” G’raha muttered. “What exactly was down there? For you to find books of Amaurot.” He couldn’t say more, concern etching his features. 

Evelyn clasped her hands together, and began the long tale. Of the Eulmorean’s who turned cultists for Zodiark, or so she assumed that’s what it was, how it glowed and spit out an enormous amount of aether as it split in two. Or how the darkness seemed to be alive within the tunnels. It was all very strange, and it had the mark of ascian influence all over it. Fighting one by herself was a challenge, Evelyn wasn’t sure if she was ready or even prepared. Her fights with the immortals were far and in between. She was able to rest for a leisure amount of time before piercing another with her lance normally. It had only been months since his death. Evelyn found the florescent color of his aether, the small twinge enough to calm her from a sudden bout of anxiety. Yet another secret she refused to say out loud. While Emet-Selch’s death had affected her to an extreme it wasn’t as if she felt less for the others. Lahabrea had her reeling after things settled in the strangest of ways.

Evelyn turned her thoughts to her next assignment. She flung a leg off the bed, forcing the nausea down from the recent poisoning. She knew where she needed to go next. She would hate it, but it was what she had to do. G’raha ever the worrier pressed a hand into her shoulder. “Evelyn, you need more rest.” 

“I don’t need rest, I need to go to Amaurot.” She bit her lip and moved her other leg. “Before its gone I need to speak to someone.” A shudder ran through her at the thought. Her weary body nigh about to collapse on itself, but if she remembered correctly, G’raha did confirm with Emet-Selch’s lack of presence over the recreated city it would cease to exist. “If we’re to learn anything of this cult we need those books translated and only I can find him.” 

G’raha pushed her back down toward the bed. “And if you push your body to your limits you’ll collapse halfway there Evelyn.” His tone took a sharpness to it she didn’t expect out of him. “Please, I’ve already found you dug out of a mine, I can’t bear the thought of you collapsing somewhere else.”

“But Amaurot—” 

“Can wait.” G’raha finished. “Whatever those pages have to offer can wait for the morning. For now I need you to rest. I will send word to Kholusia on your findings, and we’ll go from there.” 

Evelyn frowned, but lied back down against her pillows. G’raha pulled the blankets back up around her. She turned in her cot and sighed. Her body was rather heavy, but she couldn’t help but wonder if Hythlodeas was still around to answer her most pressing questions. He was the only sentient shade in Amaurot. Surely he could tell her how to translate, or better yet give her an idea so she might explain it to Urianger. Gods how was she going to explain this to the Scions? 

“Fine, I’ll rest for now.” Evelyn dared not shut her eyes however. She was terrified of her good dream turning into another nightmare. “But G’raha, might you send down my bag? I do want to look over those books once more.” An innocent enough request, right? 

G’raha smiled, “Of course, perhaps we might look over them together then?” 

Evelyn smiled, “That’s sounds like a wonderful idea.” And when G’raha retired she would sneak out into the night. Evelyn bit her lip again and pulled the covers up to her shoulders. “And G’raha.” The mystel turned from where he was about to leave, curious. 

“Thank you, for everything.” It was that warm smile that graced his features that almost had her wanting to stay put.

  
Evelyn pulled her shirt off carefully, but her claws still managed to rip right through it. A low curse tumbled from her lips. That was her fifth shirt! G’raha covered his face. He was turning as red as a tomato. It wasn’t as if Evelyn wasn’t wearing anything underneath. It was a tight cropped undergarment. It kept everything well in place. If he wasn’t the ripe age of one hundred years old perhaps she would have thought it endearing. This was just a bit funny to her. Evelyn couldn’t imagine a miqo’te not having fun in bed. G’raha must have had a few paramours. He was just wrapping her arm back up. It wasn’t as if she was bearing her soul to him. No, she would only do that with one person. A pair of golden eyes came to mind but again, she refused to linger on the thought. 

G’raha spread his fingers, feeling awfully stupid. Silver scars ran down Evelyn’s flesh. Over collarbone, shoulders, her abdomen had a rather thick one that disappeared under her cropped shirt. G’raha couldn’t imagine turning anymore red. “Is this really necessary?” 

“G’raha, it runs up my shoulder. There’s really no avoiding it.” Indeed, he could see her arm had indeed turned that wispy white of a sin eater, golden veins twisting up her arm, disappearing under the bandages where the arrow had hit her. She turned, and rested her feet on the cold floor before outstretching her arm towards him. 

G’raha took her hand in his, her skin freezing. A low hiss left Evelyn from the sheer warmth of normal flesh with normal aether. “It’s frigid Evelyn are you sure—” 

“I’m fine.” She reassured. 

Curiosity overcame G’raha, he ran a finger over a golden vein. It was hard and rigid, not soft like he imagined. Her fingers were gold, melting into the white of her palm. G’raha ran his fingers through his head of hair before grabbing the bandages on the nightstand. He began at her upper arm, his fingers gentle in their movement. Evelyn barely felt the touch of G’raha’s hands at all. She told herself it was because she didn’t feel much anymore in her arm, white and devoid of aether as it was. 

“How does this work with your gauntlets now?”

“Oh, I have to get mine specially crafted now. The left is far larger then the right.” 

G’raha’s eyes turned to her scars next. The wide gash over her shoulder and down her abdomen. “I never thought you had so many scars.” 

‘I do love scars.’ Evelyn blinked, but pushed his voice out of her head.

“There are many, you didn’t expect me to come unscathed out of every battle did you? This one here will turn into the same color. The blessing Hydaelyn and her ever indomitable champion.” Evelyn shrugged once more. “There not something I show off of course.” 

Something worked onto G’raha’s face that was a mix in between a frown and jealously? Evelyn couldn’t exactly place where it was coming from however. Evelyn tilted her head but couldn’t say much else. This was a comfortable silence she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. She didn’t want to ruin it. Once G’raha finished his work a soft smile reached Evelyn’s lips. It was far more well done then she could ever manage. 

“Thank you G’raha. I appreciate it. I can put my shirts back on without them ripping.” She laughed. 

“I’m glad I could help as meager as it was.” The genuine smile from the mystel made Evelyn’s heart warm. She couldn’t imagine what he would do when she disappeared in the morning. 

“Now, back to bed, I’ll come visit you come the next sun.” 

Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Yes sir.” 

With the end of that conversation, Evelyn was left to her thoughts, alone once more.


	12. Blood and Thunder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry had to take this down and redo it. I was missing a few things got a few facts in the wrong places. Should be well and good with some added flourishes. If you squint there's an Elidibus. Everyone loves grumpy Elidibus lolz

The white robed ascian watched the sin eaters writhe and savor their food through Lakeland’s forest. Both he and Emet-Selch were in a deep discussion. One that Emet-Selch hoped he did not have to have. A loud screech echoed in his ears, the screams of mortals forcing his expression into one of disgust. Cowardly things they were, pathetic and weak, but what could Emet-Selch possibly expect from so many sundered souls. The clouds pooled in the sky and droplets started to patter down over the forest trees. He was used to visages such as war and death. Emet-Selch did not flinch at the few that fell, or even the hundreds that turned into sin eaters. 

The transformation was something that the Hero had nightmares about, or so she said. It was strange question he asked that night, one of the very many nights they shared in conversation. ‘What would you forget if you could?’ She replied as such: ‘I’ve forgotten much over the past ten years, I fear for forgetting more, but if I had a choice, a sin eater’s transformation perhaps?’ She asked him in turn, and Emet-Selch found that what he wanted to forget defined him, made him who he was and so he didn’t have an answer. Or, Emet-Selch simply didn’t want to forget anything, why would he ever want to forget her? 

Her beauty, her fierceness, her intellect, wit, and love of life. Her soul especially, oh how it sung, soft and beautiful, yet loud like a war cry. It echoed in the color of her soul. The warrior scorched bright, her lance cutting through each sin eater faster then the last. A white splash of blood stained her armor. He imagined her expression wild, lost in the adrenaline. Emet-Selch wondered if she hid behind the helm to hide her hunger, that lust for something on her lance. The hero certainly turned her footwork into an art. How he would love to fight her in bed, who would win? A wicked smirk appeared on his features. 

“Pray keep your lecherous thoughts to yourself and pay attention to the task at hand?” Elidibus crossed his arms, a frown plastered on his face. Such the worrier that he was, he had thought to grace him with his presence to sight his progress. 

“If you don’t start smiling Elidibus I do fear for you immortal soul. I’m sure it’s blacker then mine.”

Elidibus grimaced. “I didn’t wake you up from your slumber so you could play with the Warrior of Light.” 

“That is precisely why you should let me play with the Warrior of Light Elidibus. You woke me up, I am exhausted, so do forgive me if I find some measure of entertainment in our enemy.” 

Elidibus looked mildly disgusted. “Besides, what’s a little tug at her emotions? She knows I am her enemy but she is ever so curious. I have her wrapped around my finger.” 

“And yet, she still lives.” 

“Oh, is that what you worried about? I do pity your lack of sight.” Emet-Selch leaned back in mid-air, resting his hands behind his head, crossing his legs. “She has absorbed quite a bit of light. I have no need to kill her when she manages to do it so blindly on her own. She will turn into a sin eater and I have all the entertainment in the world and the First shall fall to light once more, triggering an eighth calamity and one shard closer to raising the one true God back into existence.” Emet-Selch couldn’t help himself, he threw his arms out with that same wicked grin on his face. “What a beautiful play, and all the players on their board mucking about like puppets on a string.” 

It seemed the Emissary was getting a headache from all Emet-Selch’s nonsense. He could see his clawed gloves pressing against his temple gently. Good, he didn’t want to suffer in Elidibus’ presence longer then necessary. “You find a fearful exuberance of joy in mortals for hating them so.” 

“Shall I remind you I’ve built empires for you simply to sow the seeds of chaos then proceeded to have children to continue my work?” Emet-Selch could sufficiently say intimacy with his wife was good but it wasn’t what he wanted. Dull love making to say the least. “I can learn how to cut the strings of my puppets just as fast as I picked them up.” Still, his eyes trailed to the hero, her friends moving strategically through thralls of sin eaters. He couldn’t care for her friends, but her, she was worth noting every time. As quickly as she could breath life into the hearts of men she could take life away. She was still a goddess in mortal skin. 

“Fine, don’t get attached Emet-Selch, you have a habit of doing that.” 

Emet-Selch couldn’t be bothered to watch Elidibus take to the void. He was far to enamored watching his warrior cut her next meal of sin eater. He took to keeping a close eye on the woman, staying to her shadow as he was wont to do these days. 

“Everyone that still has strength gather up the wounded!” She shouted out commands with lance still in hand. The men and women of the Ostall Imperative were made out of tough skin. They worked quickly to set up tents and bring out waterskins. Whatever room that was had was quickly filled with the moaning and cries Crystarium soldiers. The Scions made quick work of them. The rain poured down even harder now then it did earlier today. The hero ran to check on the few that were hidden in corners of the Imperative. They were either grief struck or to traumatized that they couldn’t even speak.

What paltry existence those of half men with only half the soul and half the courage. Pathetic. He could scarcely watch any more. He took to leaving her shadow and instead enjoyed the cold droplets of rain on his face. He would continue to wonder what it was that she ever saw in them. The lives of small people with so little to give the world. Every time he took upon the ilk of men he could find nothing good in any of them. Even the Captain of the guard had lost her nerve. She collapsed over her own two feet, silver locks falling over her rage. She cursed to the gods of mans fate, punched the ground and shouted out her grievances to the sky that did not care. It only served to force the warrior to work even harder. So much so that he could scarcely watch more. She would most definitely work herself to death, sooner or later he was positive.

Emet-Selch pulled away from her. He would inevitably end up speaking to her again later in the night hours. He took a long stroll under cobblestone and a darkened sky. He watched the souls of Lakeland billow about in the wind, that rainbow of colors filling his vision. Why he could touch them if he so pleased. He could feel their essence wither and wane. Emet-Selch could drown in the amount that covered the land now. So many twinkling souls ready for the plucking. Ready to leave for the Lifestream once more. Death was beautiful, if not in twisted sense of the word. Emet-Selch found that he couldn’t quite contain himself. He reached out for a emerald green orb, his gloved finger running over a round edge. It shuddered under his touch, expanding briefly before its form spread out and floated up into the sky. Dull beautiful colors, none of them as bright as the one he could see afar. It was vibrant and alive, seven times rejoined, a pearl among the sullied souls of the First.

It was atop the tower, calling out to him, chiding him for leaving it awash in agony he did not see right away. It was more death, a reminder of how many lives she could not yet save. He thought of denying her, of rejecting her selfishness and instead tending to his own. However, Emet-Selch was weak to her various needs. Their colors were always so selfish with each other. Emet-Selch scoffed. Elidibus might be right, he was becoming far to attached. He stepped through the void, and found alone with her, no man in sight. Clever girl.

Her helmet was forgotten on the wet ground, thrown carelessly to the side. Hair stuck to her face, hands clenched onto the pole of her lance, the other resting on her hip. She stood at the tip of the tower, watching the few below her move like ants. There were still guards that stood at the entrance, tense, watching for more sin eaters. The rest of the Scions could be seen rushing around with supplies and food provisions. 

“The Warrior of Light walks among death and comes out undefeated. Such is the curse of Hydealyn’s one true champion. She saves hundreds of lives and kills those who have turned into vicious monsters. Leaving naught but aether and dust in her wake.” Emet-Selch raised his hands, another sick grin on his face. “Those dull colored souls drift and ebb back to the Lifestream all the while the Hero stands on her perch like a disapproving child. She calls for vengeance, calls for Vauthry’s head on a plate. But in all reality, our Hero of this grand tale is all billowing smoke and embers.” 

It only took a moment for her lance to poise at his neck, her eyes burning with a seething rage, her lip curled in what he could only assume was disgust. He raised his hands, as if he was only saying it in jest. “My isn’t that a look. So fierce is the vaunted Warrior’s despair. You might yet burn.” 

“I do not care to wonder about you tonight Ascian, nor do I care for your company if all you decide to speak on is our rising death toll. The bell rings loudly in mine ears, I don’t need a reminder.” A crack of levin scorched the sky, the weather turning even worse. She still stood vigilant, unmoving under the coarse wind. “Its not bad enough that I have this ache in my chest every time I see you, or that I tire ever more frequently in the face of all this death and suffering, but now I am to contend with even more blood on my hands? How low does their dear Hero fall?” Her lip trembled, under all that rain and wind she cried, but who was to see it? No one but him and him alone. Her voice never faltered. “Go, I don’t need you if you’ve only come to mock me.” 

“Does that mean you do think of me Hero? A blessing, I shall take that as a compliment.” He pushed away her lance with elegant fingers, feeling the sharpness the smell of blood still fresh on its blades. Colored such a bright white it stood out from black and gold metal. Evelyn took a step back, intimidated under the present circumstances. “I am only glad that the hero of the hour yet lives.” 

“Your time has yet to come Ascian. You’ll be the one to kiss my lance next and I shan't feel bad for it.” 

“For that I do pity you.” Emet-Selch called it pity, but another feeling lie dormant under the one he wanted.

There was naught but a frown in return for him. He watched her fingers twitch, but everything else stayed taunt. She was a pillar with thousands of fissures, to many to count. Yet she stood unmoving in the face of her own despair. “How long does it take to break the Warrior of Light? I do have to wonder.” How much further might she walk before she truly hit the bottom of her reach. 

“That’s a baseless question, haven’t you figured it out yet Ascian? I don’t break.” Another crack graced the sky. She finally lowered her weapon, but kept it close on her person. After all Emet-Selch was still an ascian and they weren’t in her chambers this night. “People may die but I may yet stand.” 

“Hero, as far I know you don’t even care to stand on your own two feet. I already know your truth. You could care less about all of this. You want no part of the First’s problems. You are a hero who cares not for her station.”

Her hands bunched up in his robes once more. She was always stronger then she looked. Another crack resounded in the air, lighting up her face to reveal all that bitterness that was hidden beneath all her despair. “That’s not true!” Emet-Selch avoided her gaze, masking his expression with one of indifference. “It’s not—” Another hitch of her chest, a hidden sob beneath a deep needed breath. “Why does everyone have to die? Why is it that everything I care about, everything that I ever love die? I touch it and it withers away. I want something and it slips through my fingers. The end goal was in sight! The Crystarium had finally found its hope! Damn Vauthry! Damn his horde, and damn you Ascian!” She pushed him away turning back to watch the small bodies move about the broken outpost. “Your lack of empathy is abhorrent.” She seethed.

For a long moment, there was silence. Harsh rain pelting down, the crack of thunder echoing in their ears. As it was wont to do, the world fell away once more. Her soul cried and screamed, attempting to escape the coils of her fate and found itself wanting. Emet-selch was continuously reminded that she did not ask for this, not an ilm of it. Just as he didn’t ask to be woken up to face this cruelty. “Another question if I may.” He might very well regret it. Emet-Selch would hate himself for allowing such weakness. But who was he to deny her soul? 

“You dare have the gall to ask me another one of your useless questions?” Venomous words for a rather venomous predator off her high of adrenaline. 

“I have many and more to ask.” Emet-Selch smirked, “Why do you care for the half souls here that are so obviously beneath you? What have they done for you? Nothing, save granting you an eternal doom and even more suffering.” 

“There you go again, with your damn riddles. Who am I to say or to decide who is beneath me and who is not? Who am I to ignore the call for people in need? I don’t have the luxury of ignoring it. A part of me doesn’t want to. Not that you would understand, Bringer of Chaos.” 

“Careful Hero, you’ll cause my heart to flutter at such a flourish of words.” He took a step forward, removing his gloves from his hands slowly. “Might you not humanize me for a moment and think what I’ve told you?” His fingers shook in anticipation, his throat becoming dry. Her soul continued to writhe out for him, so close and in such turmoil. It was nostalgic of a time before the doom. Sometimes when she came home all she could do was throw him words of bitterness. “After all I have lost much myself.” 

Evelyn knew that to be true, she couldn’t deny him and to prove that she stayed silent, vigilant over the Rodisca. She didn’t sense him reaching out for her, nearly close to touching her pale features. “Do you realize how hard that is for me?” She turned, and widened her eyes. Whatever expression Emet-Selch chose to bear to her it had her fall back into silence. 

“Yes. It’s why I don’t chose to humanize your loss. Tis better to throw out words of bitterness in place of comfort. You don’t want comfort do you Hero.” His fingers slid over her wet cheek, a thumb brushing the droplets there. “I could have you fall apart in my arms if you did.” 

“Don’t…” There was a hint of fear there now. She shook, rather from the cold or her touch she couldn’t tell. “Stop it Ascian I don’t need it.” 

“I am ever if not curious how you suffer so without even shedding a tear, has your dear Thancred never wrapped you up in his arms after a long journey?” She took a step back but Emet-Selch reached out his other hand and bent down slowly. Her aether hummed, potent under his touch. Emet-Selch suppressed a hiss. 

“Don’t make me any weaker to you then I am Ascian.” After all he already knew so much, she didn’t want to reveal more of herself, especially her despair. Her frustrations were one thing he imagined, but this feeling in her breast, the screaming that echoed from her soul was a completely different matter. “I wish you would make up your mind, hate me or like me just chose one and stick to it! I would prefer your petty words over this!” Hurt me, she said, fan the flames of mine soul she screamed. Just don’t coddle me. 

Emet-Selch did just that. Because it was the third option she needed the most. He allowed his aether to mingle with hers, a swirling concoction of colors that were once lost to each other. Sparkling iridescence and his own dark aether coiled and sparked like the levin in the sky. Finally, he pulled her to his chest, resting his chin atop the crown of her head. She became taunt, gripping a fabric full of his robes once more. Evelyn pushed him, attempted to escape his hold but purchase was impossible. Emet-Selch kept her there under the cold rain and dark sky. He said no words of comfort for she didn’t want them. He could not offer any, he after all wanted a Rejoining, he wanted his world back. This one needed to end for it to happen. 

“Call it cooperation dear Hero. I am simply an instrument to express your grief to. For the next Lightwarden waits and far more death is surely to come.” Emet-Selch felt her shudder. 

“Damn you! Let me go!” She hit his chest and raged at him like he had never seen in a long time. “I hate you! Leave me in peace.” Her voice broke, and her knees collapsed under her. He gripped the small of her back in response. “It’s all your fault, all of it and yet…” She buried her face into his chest, her soul quivering, aether reaching for his in a desperate attempt to bath in it. Her back shook, a quiet sob leaving her. Finally, she was allowed to break, in the arms of her enemy who she was destined to kill. His hand ghosted over her head, tangling his fingers through wet hair. 

“What a cruel fate you have been made to walk.” Why must it always be her to walk it alone?


	13. The Dark Streets of Amaurot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed a happy chapter so I have created this mess but hey we're getting somewhere now. Yay for Hythlo and his dorkiness. I love him so.

Evelyn ended up sleeping again, her body protesting her lack thereof. Her nightmares continued, it was nothing like the dream she had that morning. She cursed her thoughts for always picturing the Ascian leaking out black. It was as if Zodiark suffused him full of the liquid and was attempting to break through his borrowed body. She lied there for a long time, knowing she needed to get up and leave. The warmth of her bed however coddled her back into comfort, gripping her tightly in its arms. Evelyn’s body didn’t want to listen to her but her head screamed. Her limbs still felt heavy, but she forced herself upright in bed. It was time to go, better or for worse.

She moved her legs off the bed, her bare feet touching the cold ground. It caused a shiver to run up her spine, her hands meeting her arms on instinct. It made her wonder if she caught fever. Despite that, Evelyn still pressed on. She pushed herself up and wavering hard. She gripped the nightstand, her fingers finding that damn book she brought back from the mines. Evelyn pinched the bridge of her nose and tipped her head back. A moan left her, her nausea churning, stomach dropping. Evelyn hummed, but it did eventually pass. Her armor lie across the room, her hand subconsciously taking the small book with her. 

She reminded herself to take deep breaths. That if she was going to sneak out of the Crystarium she would need to be fit to do it. She slapped her cheeks gently and with a determined gaze, prepared for her journey to The Tempest. Evelyn didn’t bother with her hair, she left it down in a worse mess then she ever thought it could be. The Chirurgeons were no where to be found, meaning it was rather late in the night. It also meant that Evelyn wouldn’t be stopped at the open doors. She took the small book from the nightstand, fingering the edges. His writing wasn’t in it, which meant this was merely a copy of the book he had. Evelyn barely remembered the letters that were written in it. She had stole a glance at the first page, months ago. The handwriting was elegant, done with the utmost care, there was love put into those words, whatever they were. 

Evelyn took a step forward. She stopped at the lip of the open door, allowing the wind to calm her heightened anxiety. She could barely contain herself and waiting for an opening had her foot tapping incessantly. The guards were slow to move out of sight but they finally dragged their feet to a different section of the Dossal Gate. Evelyn just needed to get to the aetheryte. She could use that to get to Amaurot without any trouble. 

“Finally.” She muttered, taking a chance at sprinting from pillar to pillar under the cover of darkness. The glow of the Crystal Tower ebbed under a large moon. The guards surrounding the tower were lost in conversation after a long shift. She took to one more pillar, resting her back against it. There were more guards near the Aetheryte Plaza. Why did G’raha know her so well, was her stubbornness so obvious? Of course it was, she was the bloody Warrior of Light. 

“Come on, move damn you!” She cursed under her breath. She clicked her tongue, her eyes watching for an opening. Bless Thancred and his lessons but these guards were making her far more impatient then normal. Evelyn decided to blame it on the lack of sleep, she was sure she looked worse then when she first arrived to Norvrandt. Her near death experience promised her that much. Evelyn threw her arms up in frustration. She pushed off of a foot and sprinted past the guards who were as baffled at her presence as the next few near the entrance of the Crystarium. She raised her good hand against the aetheryte and shut her eyes, and thought only of Amaurot. G’raha would be livid with her. Evelyn’s stomach lurched again, her head screaming at her, the pain gradually growing. 

_‘You stupid girl!’_

Evelyn blinked at the distorted voice before she tumbled onto the cold slab ground of Amaurot. Her bad hand flew to her mouth. She stumbled over to the ledge of Amaurot’s Atheryte Plaza and dry heaved out the contents of her stomach. Teleportation sickness wasn’t something she experienced in a very long time. Evelyn felt like dying. Damn her traitor body. Damn her messed up aether. She heaved over the railing, attempting to concentrate on the cold marble beneath her fingers. It was no wonder G’raha told her rest another day. Once her stomach settled, her splitting headache begun. Evelyn groaned for what felt like the umpteenth time that day. She lied down on the ground, hair sprawling out beneath her. Silence followed, the blue haze of the ocean cascading down on Amaurot in twilight. She made it, ran past the guards and somehow escaped G’raha’s ire, if he even knew she had left yet. 

A broken laugh left her, rising up in her dry throat and echoing off the tall spires of Amaurot. Evelyn might have lost her mind, or perhaps she already did. She clutched her stomach, the points of her claws through cloth digging into her flesh. She curled in on herself in a fit of laughter. She was back, she was in Amaurot, the one city she never wanted to see again. Because she knew what would happen next. She felt tears pool at the corners of her eyes. Every time she sighted this damn city, this glorious glittering city she wanted to cry and scream and curse the heavens. Why did it all have to connect back to Amaurot. Following Bahamut cultists was easier then following Zodiark’s children. She lie there for a moment, and briefly, the auracite she carried glowed with a mild fervor. 

“Alright, enough crying.” Evelyn got up and rubbed her eyes and took in her surroundings. It looked solid enough, she didn’t see gaps in the buildings. Evelyn felt an odd sense of relief. She slowly picked herself up, wobbling on her feet before her legs gave out under her. She tilted her head back and let out a noise of frustration. “Damn Halone and her teleportation sickness!” She raged. “I just wanted to talk to to Hythlodeaus! That fool of a sentient shade! Traitor body, I’m the bloody Warrior of Light.” She pushed herself back up from the ground. “I am not this weak!” Why was she so weak? 

“My friend you’re liable to disturb the peace if you continue to shout.”

“Hythlodeaus!” She whipped her head around and spotted the visage of the amaurotine clad in dark robes, face covered with a white mask. “You’re still alive?”

The shade turned his head, attempting to hide a snicker that left him. “I can’t say I’m alive my friend, but I did hear my name called. I saw your soul from afar.”

Evelyn turned red, she had called him a fool. Her reaction seemed to be appropriate because he couldn’t hold back his own soft laughter that echoed in the quiet of Amaurot. “You look to be in a bit of trouble. What brings you to the still life of Amaurot?” 

“About that.” Evelyn tried to get back on her feet for the third time that night, and found herself severely lacking. Her legs just wouldn’t move. Something akin to a pout found its way on her features. Hythlodeaus burst into another fit of laughter. He took a seat next to her, still very much towering over her otherwise small figure. She straightened out her legs and started to beat them with a fist. 

“Teleportation sickness?”

Evelyn frowned, “A combination of poison and a few other things. I haven’t been sick like this in a long time. It’s not supposed to happen anymore.” Why was she complaining to a shade. “I suppose that’s my fault, my body isn’t well enough to travel long distances” She muttered

“Poison? You still do manage to get yourself into trouble I see.”

“You say still and it only confuses me.” It tugged at her heart and she wasn’t completely aware why. 

“I’m sure many things have been confusing lately my friend, I can see your soul is well but…” He frowned. “Your arm, your aether. Emet-Selch has passed as well.” 

Evelyn’s frown seemed to deepen. She pulled at the small patch of grass beneath her at the thought of Emet-Selch. What was she supposed to say? By what he told her Hythlodeaus had known Emet-Selch intimately, or so she assumed. “I killed him. He’s dead. The transformation happened shy of that.” She said it with the least amount of emotion, attempted to keep her voice steady. 

Hythlodeaus stared at her intently, as if surveying a piece of her she didn’t see. “You carry him with you.” He pointed out. 

Evelyn’s fingered the auracite in her ears. “A small piece yes. To remember him as he wanted.” 

“I’m sure he’s happy for that much, but my friend you seem in turmoil thinking about it. As I’ve said, your soul is well, why it’s eight times rejoined it burns ever so brightly but…” Hythlodaeus tilted his head. “Your soul is screaming for him. It’s quite a sight to be frank. Understandable under the circumstances.” 

“What circumstances?” 

Hythlodaeus smiled knowingly. “I am but a shade with a very particular set of eyes.” 

“That’s not an answer.” Evelyn pointed out. When did this become off topic she was here for a lexicon. 

“Perhaps you should look closer at your own soul to understand. Now the topic back at hand. What brings you to Amaurot? Surely not to see just I?”

Evelyn bit her lip before she pulled out a book from her person. “I was out scouting Kholusia. The details don’t matter but I came across this.” 

“Why, this brings back memories!” Hythlodeaus’ smiled, soft and warm. “I haven’t seen this in a very long time.” 

“You recognize it?” Evelyn’s curiosity peaked. 

“Of course, I remember shopping for this with a old friend of mine, she was so nervous to give it to her paramour at the time. He’s not this whimsical Hythlo, he’ll probably chuck it into the Underworld for all he cares of poetry.” Hythlodaeus paused, then laughed nervously. “But forgive me, I tend to become easily distracted, can you not read it with your echo?” 

Evelyn took a strand of hair between her fingers. “No, I haven’t been able to read amaurotine since I first laid eyes on the book. It’s why I wanted to ask you for a lexicon, or perhaps to tell me where I could find one. If there’s books from Amaurot then there must be more.” 

Hythlodeaus tapped a finger against his temple. “A lexicon is no issue. However I’m not sure we have a book readily available here in our still life Amaurot, unless—” Hythlodeaus shook his head. “No, I doubt it.” He swiftly changed the subject. “Before we go further with this quest of yours however I bid you rest my old friend.” 

“I don’t need more rest.” She stated, but somehow, even though Hythlodaeus was a shade, a creation of Emet-Selch’s impeccable creation magicks, he picked up up in his large hands and smiled. “Fear not, I know just where you can rest. You’ll enjoy it.” 

“Wait a moment! Where are you taking me you fool of a shade”

Hythlodaeus cradled her to his chest like a small child. “My you do still have your spirit. That much is evident. Though, I do wish you would stop calling me a fool.” 

“Just tell me if you know of a way to translate Amaurotine and I’ll leave.” She struggled and found that she could not escape. “How are you even carrying me you’re a shade!” Evelyn started to turn red in the face again. She felt light, her shouting once more echoing off the spires. Evelyn found it was easy to talk to Hythlodaeus. He carried her around like a child through the dark streets of Amaurot against her will. At some point she crossed her arms and silently complained with her expression alone. 

They were moving deeper into the city, a part she didn’t remember being transversed. Hythlodeaus opened a blue door lined with gold. Inside was warm with light and soft colors, empty couches that hadn’t been touched since Emet-Selch’s timely demise. There was a mindless shade, humming to herself. Evelyn could hear a soft scratching of paper. She wondered what this place was. Evelyn wished she was able to explore more throughly but the Scions did not make a habit of visiting Amaurot. Evelyn even less so afterward. She couldn’t bring herself to look at it, but here she was. 

“Must you pout so?” Hythlodaeus asked, an innocent enough question with mirth hidden under the surface. He was teasing her. 

“You’re carrying me like a child.” She accused. 

Hythlodaeus took the staircase against the wall, not a creak heard from beneath his feet. “I am rather tall.” 

“You’re unnaturally tall it makes no sense.” How were amaurotines so tall? Hythlodaeus took to elegant staircase, not a creak to be heard from the immaculate inner workings of Amaurot. Her brow furrowed, a deep sense of daja vu settling in the pit of her stomach.

 _‘Our first home together, I never thought there would be a day where we would find time to be domestic.’_ The voice came suddenly and left just as fast. It was far away, like a dream. Evelyn blinked and rubbed one eye. Why in the world did she keep hearing that damn voice in her head. It was driving her mad. Evelyn knew she was going crazy but this was ridiculous. The walk up was slow but Hythlodaues found the door he was intending to bring her to. How in the world was this happening? she had so many questions, and not enough energy to ask them. 

It was long walk, but Hythlodeaus found the door in question. He turned the knob, revealing a hallway that lead into a small living room with an open balcony. There were couches with a coffee table, bookshelves lined on the wall. The small kitchen was dark, littered with cupboards. To the left was another dark hallway, but as Hythlodeaus stepped through, the lights softly turned on revealing sky blue walls. A womans touch, perhaps. 

“Here we are.” Hythlodaeus opened the bedroom door, revealing a oddly familiar room. 

Evelyn became taunt in Hythlodaeus’ arm. Everything was perfectly in place, down to the desk with scattered paperwork to the bookshelf next to the window. The bed was forgotten, the covers undone and left bunched at the end. The soft lamps were turned on, on each nightstand, and the cold air of The Tempest filtered through the crack of a window. Hythlodeaus pulled back the sheets of the bed and plopped her down into the plush pillows. It was a normal sized bed, which was strange to her. 

“I will go and collect your things, or at least I will attempt to. I make no promises. But I bid you sleep.” 

The minute Evelyn’s head hit the pillow her eyes fluttered. She was so very tired, and the bed smelled like him. It brought back nice memories. Evelyn attempted to take off a few stray pieces of armor before comfortably lying back in bed. Hythlodaeus smiled, his large hand gently patting the crown of her head. “You’re oddly good at this for a shade.” She muttered. She buried her face into the pillow and inhaled the scent of coffee and sandalwood. It smelled exactly like him.

“I retain the memories of Hythlodeaus of Amaurot. He did this frequently for his old friend, especially during the end times when she did not see her paramour. You remind much of her.” But Evelyn was already sound asleep and rather she had heard his words or not was beyond him. “You know, you could just show yourself and she wouldn’t suffer so and I wouldn’t have to carry her all the way home, right? Honestly it feels like you two are bickering again.” The ever present shadow in her wake stepped out, watching Hythlodeaus with a measure of interest. 

“I’m more curious how one of my shades has such lip.” The man frowned, his robes dark, lapels adorned with silver embroidery. He brought two metal clawed fingers to his face. Emet-Selch did not remember giving Hythlodaeus so much flourish. 

“And I, curiouser and curiouser by the color of your soul Hades. It has been flushed of the darkness, but it has many cracks, why its barely discernible. However did she manage to bring you back from the brink is beyond my understanding, how she attached you to those crystals confounds me even more. Actually, now that I think about it, your body is even more strange.” 

Silver locks framed Hades’ face. His mask, a far cry from the one he adorned at his end was simply red, the same size as Hythlodaeus's. “I would ask you not undress me like that, if I wanted an opinion on my soul I would ask.” There was no such person to ask anymore of course. How easy it was for him to fall into bickering with Hythlodaeus even as a shade.

“Setting that matter aside my old friend, why are you stalking her like a shadow again? If you are well I’m sure you quell the turmoil in her soul.” 

Hades scoffed. “What’s to say I’m not just punishing her for her transgressions? She left us when we needed her most. As a matter of fact her suffering does me a great deal of happiness. It looked like my little play worked. How fortunate for I.” Hades smirked, but the mirth behind it was all but dead. 

“Cold as ever but still a terrible liar, will you do me the favor of retrieving what she wants? There is no library in our still life Amaurot.” 

Hades sighed, “Tis’ not that easy, I am tethered to her soul and the auracite, sometimes I’m not even conscious unless she thinks of me hard enough.” Hades rolled his eyes. “Why am I even explaining this to you? You’re dead.” 

“How you can brush me off so easily old friend it wounds me.” 

Hades turned his head. “Well, you might be in luck, I’ll let you take the credit of finding her lexicon.” 

“Oh, so you were awake for that?” Hythlodeaus smiled knowingly. 

“I was pulled out of my slumber because of her blubbering idiocy of a teleportation spell while still under the effects of poison. The stupid girl that she is, does she think so little of me that she seriously considered that Amaurot would be gone? After all I—” Hades stopped talking, glaring at the window. 

“You made it for her so you could bring her home. Still so hopelessly sentimental Hades.” 

“Oh do shut up.” Emet-Selch threw the warrior’s words at Hythlodeaus, ones that he was acutely familiar with by now. “And give me a modicum of peace so I might work.” He could thank Adrestia’s lack of control over her echo when she first came to Amaurot. Growing up with mortals ended up being a blessing in disguise.


	14. Heated Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut, smut, smut, smut. I wrote smut! It's been far to long I hope it isn't horrible. The book club gave me some advice so I hope I at least managed to meet some mark. I'm happy with it anyway. I'll get better as I move forward I hope.

“To fill the void that consumes our breast. To forget, for one damnable fleeting moment, that we aren’t both doomed to fates cruel design.” He felt his sash pulled from his shoulders. Evelyn wrapped it around her own and smiled, mischievous in nature. Evelyn reached for the last bit of fabric and his glove was off and forgotten the floor. 

Emet-Selch’s hand found her exposed back, his fingers feeling for silvery scars left there. Low sighs left Evelyn’s parted lips, her head tilting back against the door. Emet-Selch wanted to trace each one, find which were sensitive and others that turned numb over time. The more Emet-Selch explored the more he realized how similar they were. His other glove had been forgotten on the ground and he couldn’t exactly remember when he had taken it off. It lied there discarded and forgotten next to its twin.

His red sash was looped behind his neck. Evelyn pulled him down to her height. A ripple of shock made its way up his back. This part of her Emet-Selch remembered. The way she took control of the situation and turned him on his head, so long ago. Emet-Selch was used to control in nearly every aspect of his life, until this vixen came and smashed it to bits. Oh, she would let him dominate, take her as he wished but he knew she could change the course of their entire exchange. 

“Go on Ascian, convince me.” Her eyes were smoldering, the tension in her soul fit to burst, ready to spill over with a slew of emotions that Emet-Selch wasn’t sure he was ready to face. He felt fingers playing with the metal clasps of his shift. How had she managed to keep that damnable dress on this long was beyond him. 

“For behind these doors there does not lie a world that needs us, no ghost no man will call for succor. There is no Hydealyn, and there is no Zodiark. We are not their children trapped between their war. We are simply us.”

In that moment, her hands splayed over his chest, feeling taunt muscles that Evelyn was not expecting. As lazy as the ascian was she wasn’t expecting him to stay so, well, in shape. She locked her legs around his waist and kissed him once more, breathless shaking from his voice alone. “Fuck,” She gasped, “I do love it when you talk.” It was a slip on her part to be sure, she didn’t mean to let it escape her, let alone share it with the ascian. 

She felt him smirk against her lips, carrying her to the bed with ease. Emet-Selch threw her onto the soft mattress, elating a soft squeak from her. “Hero, you must make up your mind.” He rested a knee on the bed, feather down dipping inward. Emet-Selch had become the wolf and his Hero had become the lost sheep run away from her heard. Perfect. “You either love my voice or you hate it.” 

Evelyn bit her lip and backed up against the pillows behind her. She played with a strap that rested over her shoulder, the dark blue dress a beautiful contrast against her skin. “And what if I can’t chose, I love and I hate your voice, it grates and yet…” 

Emet-Selch gripped the bend of her knee, hitching it up, pressing himself between her legs. She fell into a low groan, the heat of him forcing her thoughts to escape her temporarily.

“And yet?” Emet-Selch’s voice rang out. He ran his fingers down her arm, forcing goose bumps to rise to the surface. Her aehter churned in attempts to meet his. He could feel it dance across his own, teasing him, daring him to share his own, to share his entire being with her. 

Evelyn searched his gaze once more, she seemed to do that a lot these past few nights. Asking a question not yet voiced, afraid of the answer. “It does put my soul at ease.” 

A voice was heard in Emet-Selch’s head. Not the Hero’s but someone else, he was taken back to time before time. Something akin to pain flitted across his face. Emet-Selch dared not linger on it. She wasn’t allowed to say that, he wished that she didn’t, it made this mean more. Everything, every touch and word would hit him harder. He took the strap tied behind her neck and tugged free the knot. 

He buried his face in her neck, teeth and tongue meeting the base of her shoulder. Her hands found the back of his head again, a soft gasp leaving her. Her hips buckled, attempting to sooth whatever heat lied under her dress. She could feel him pulse against her beneath his trousers. Why did this man have so many layers of clothes? Evelyn had to remind herself he was from Garlemald and so it made sense. His mouth trailed down her collarbone and down her chest, pushing away the bodice slowly. Evelyn froze, fingers growing taunt. Her hands moved to pull the bodice closer over her chest, turning away from him. 

“Hero, you are not escaping tonight.” His fingers reached for her arm and tugged. “A little late to be feeling shy.” But when she still didn’t budge he frowned. 

“I might have forgotten in my vigor about a small detail.” She muttered. Because, under her dress wasn’t exactly considered attractive. As a matter of fact she wasn’t used to so much attention. She could feel his love bites turn into soft kisses across her collarbone. The gentleness was something she didn’t expect either. It threw her off. 

“Which is?” He pressed. 

Oh Gods he was going to make her say it. “There’s a scar.” 

Emet-Selch purposefully found a silvery line, and flicked his tongue out against it. Evelyn moaned in response. “There are many Hero, I could play with each one.” He whispered it against her skin, his voice rumbling, sending tingles down her spine. She suddenly found it harder to concentrate. 

“It is…” What words was she looking for again? Something along the lines of large and malformed. She bit a knuckle, feeling Emet-Selch’s lips brush against a particular spot. He found an opportunity. He gripped her wrists and pulled them up above her head. The red sash that was forgotten on his neck was quickly tied tight. Evelyn could escape it, the question was did she want to? 

“Lowering your guard? That’s not like you.” He tapped her nose mockingly. Evelyn tried to bite him but he pulled away far to quickly for her. The arse. “Whatever you hide beneath your bodice, matters not to me.” He pulled down the front of her dress agonizingly slow. Emet-Selch found the beginning of a wide silver line, rough at the edges. “You’re in luck Hero.” He dipped his head down and lapped over the raised skin. “I do love scars.” 

Evelyn pressed upwards into his mouth, a low whine escaping her. She parted her lips, trying to find something to retort with. Evelyn found her vocabulary sparse at best. Curse him, how did he know which ones to touch, which ones that would have her twist and writhe under him. How much weaker could she become to his whims? Emet-Selch continued his descend, following the large silver line over her breast, his tongue flicking against a pert nipple. The confines of his trousers grew considerably more uncomfortable, but he was patient, instead showering his Hero in the devotion she deserved. To commit every curve and moan to memory. After all, it might be the only time he gets to see this side of her. 

He found himself trailing a line of bites and lavish kisses down her abdomen, her dress collecting at her waist. Emet-Selch pulled off the garment over her legs. She was panting, eyes lidded with lust, needy and hot. Her hips continued to twitch, attempting to create some friction something to distract herself from the want. Emet-Selch himself found it hard not to tear into her all at once. He wanted her. No, he needed her, to be inside her, to feel her. 

“Get on with it already, Emet, please.” Her voice echoed in his ears.

Emet-Selch rested his just above the place she wanted it most. “That’s a lovely voice Hero, might I hear you ask me what you really want.” He smirked. “Spell it out, use your words.” He teased. 

A sound of frustration left her. “Please.” She was becoming undone, and he was so close to pushing her over the edge, forcing that aether to spill out and consume him. She struggled with the sash around her wrists, not wanting to rip it, but she would if he didn’t move. 

“What is it Hero?” He repeated. “Tell me.” 

Evelyn began to turn red. “Emet, please touch me already, I’m going crazy.” Evelyn hid her face in the pillows, her blush reached the tips of her ears. 

Evelyn felt a shiver from the ascian. She blinked, as there was a long pause between the two of them. 

“Vixen.” He cursed her, “You are aware you’re no the only one losing their mind?” 

She felt her undergarments slipping off her legs and thrown carelessly to the ground next to the bed along with her dress. She hissed, cold air hitting her sensitive bits. She felt her legs hitched upward before her partner descended on a taunt bundle of nerves. Emet-Selch dug his fingers into her thighs, feeling her legs wrap around his neck to keep him in place, to steal as much pleasure as he would allow her. The sash around her wrists wouldn’t last much longer. He knew her to be bluffing she just liked the thought of being tied up and unable to move. Who would’ve thought that the warrior had mild case of masochism. Emet-Selch hummed against her clit, inciting and long drawn out moan, louder now. Her fingers gripped the pillows beneath her, hips shaking from the friction and his tongue that circled her.

A small part of Evelyn wanted to defy the heat, to pull back and slap Emet-Selch right across the face. But that wasn’t where her feelings lied for the man right now. She needed his mouth on her, his attention solely on her. Damn everyone else. She wanted to feel his hands, his lips even the bulge that looked so horrifically hard. To be filled was becoming a far more desperate need then she cared for. She felt his tongue dip further between her wet lips, the tip playing at her entrance. She pressed up against his mouth and cried out his name, over and over again. 

Emet-Selch wrapped his mouth back around her, his fingers running down her swollen lips, circling her entrance. He watched her expression turn into a wanton mess. “You’re oddly good at begging Hero, do you often call out like this while indisposed?” 

“Shut up.” She whined, pressing against his fingers. Her thoughts were muddled, her words incoherent because in that moment all she could see was him, all she could feel was him. Evelyn did wonder where the world had gone, it fell away with his touch. His lips pressed to the inside of her thigh, before he bit down. Evelyn’s fingers clutched the sheets beneath her, the pain surging through her and right back to the source of heat between her legs. 

“I dare say, does the Hero like her pain. I could have sworn I felt you twitch.” Emet-Selch felt his own aether surge, his teeth coming down to bite and suck at her thigh, forcing low hisses, and soft moans. He continued to tease her, never relenting his slow movements over her entrance. 

“Please, I need…” Evelyn’s words stuck in her throat. Why couldn’t she find an eloquent way of saying she needed his fingers inside her, against her walls, bringing her to climax?

“More words Hero?” His tongue darted out against a bruised thigh, the bulge between his legs becoming near painful. He finally unbuttoned his trousers and let out a low sigh. He watched a visible frown appear over Evelyn’s features. “If you want something then you should take it.” And that was the last word that escaped him. 

Evelyn broke through her confines and easily flipped over the ascian onto the bed. “I tire of your games, if you wanted me to throw you around all you had to do was ask.” She stole his hand and positioned it over her entrance. “I’m going to ride your hand because I’m in need of you, I want you inside me, fucking me. And if you won’t do it I will.” 

A slow, smug smirk appeared over the ascian’s face. Evelyn couldn’t find the concentration to care. Instead with one fluid movement she lowered herself onto to long elegant fingers and tilted her head back. 

Finally, relief

A loud satisfied mewl echoed in her chambers. “Damn bastard, you planned this.” 

Emet-Selch began to move his fingers. Evelyn began thrusting herself onto digits that found swelling walls, rubbing gently, bringing her that curling joy and desire. 

“What am I if not clever my dear, you look positively beautiful on my hand. Fucking yourself with it, moaning out my name.” He felt a hand on his thigh, the other running gentle fingers over his hard throbbing member. 

Emet-Selch hissed, surpassing a moan that wanted to leave him. He felt a hot hand wrap around him, aether at her fingertips nearly having him come undone. Little vixen, two could play at that game. He finally allowed himself to spill over, his aether reaching for her, to caress the spots he could not with his mortal vessel. Evelyn threw her head back, her hips moving with a renewed vigor. Everything was on fire, her entire body lit with something she could not yet understand. Her nipples grew taunt, and her juices dripped around Emet-Selch’s fingers. She could hear lewd noises not only from her lips but from between her legs. His thumb found the bundle of nerves once more.

“Emet!” She buckled in his lap, a new passion filling her senses. “Gods please I’m almost...” She twitched around his fingers, and before she could fall in one swift movement it was all gone. ”Fuck, why?” She said it with such frustration, he couldn’t help but laugh.

Emet-Selch grabbed onto her arm and threw her back down to the bed. He tangled his fingers into her knotted locks of red hair, spilling over heaving breasts like a fountain. His lips crashed down onto hers, pressing himself against her with promise. He moved down her jaw trailing his tongue down her neck. Her hips pressing up against him in reply. “Beg for it. Beg me to fill you Hero and you shall have it.” 

Emet-Selch always, even before this, reminded her who was truly in charge. It was him, it was always him. And so as he worshiped her, pressed his flesh against hers. Her aether finally, finally met his, spilled over unconstrained. Emet-Selch once again had to wonder how it wasn’t on purpose. His gaze turned molten, and Evelyn nearly fell apart again. He repeated his words, carefully, rubbing himself between her wet lips. “Beg for it Hero, or we will begin. All. Over. Again.” 

Evelyn wrapped her legs around him, her nails digging into his back. “Please, Emet fill me, fuck me, I don’t care, I want to feel you in me, moving until I’m fit to burst.” It came as a barely comprehensible flurry of desperation. 

Emet-Selch groaned, the noise feral and just as desperate for her touch. He pulled himself up on his knees, finding her sopping wet entrance with the head of his dick. He thrust foreword and penetrated that welcome heat. Evelyn arched her back, fingers pulling at the sheets beneath her with an expression of utter loss of sense. She screamed his name. Emet-Selch couldn’t find it in him care how loud she was. He was moving, finding her every crevice and sweet spot, feeling her twitch and tighten around him. All at once he felt her entire being open and accept him. 

Evelyn felt Emet-Selch hit her sweet spot over and over again, elating soft scream after soft scream from her. Words falling from her lips and none of them making any sense. Whatever this was it was toe curling, every part of her alive and surging with him. She watched his expression, so calm and collected crack. What was left was barely contained desire and need to posses her entirely, to mark her as his. Evelyn could only hope, if this was how it felt to be bedded by an ascian she wasn’t sure she would ever go back to something so meager.

Evelyn reached out for him before pulling him down flush against her. Evelyn’s nails racked up his back breaking skin. Emet-Selch gasped in her ear, his throbbing member swelled. She had found a weak point. Evelyn smirked, and ran her fingers up and down his back, teasing the fresh wounds until she finally incited a low groan from him, his head resting between her head and shoulder. 

“What else might I do to make you come undone?” She whispered, temptingly so. The odd sense of control he allowed her as minuscule as it was was refreshing. Evelyn wanted more of it, to hear him moan out her name as much as his spilled from hers. 

Emet-selch was lost in her, falling deeper into her depths, her aether and her tight hole. Nothing would ever compare to this feeling, the brimming surge of their souls nearly on the cusp of clashing together in bliss. He took her pert nipples between his fingers and pulled. She met his touch with the arch of her back. “Be careful Hero, I might lose my collected measure of control.” Zodiark but was he close, he could sense the build up, his aether spilling faster to meet her with every thrust. He could see her color mingle with his own corrupted color, moving in a heady rush. It was beautiful.

Evelyn twisted her body, shivering from the pain in her chest and heat between her legs. It was to much. “You’ve, already lost Ascian.” She clenched the sheets beneath her, and arched her back even higher, clenching onto him as she met her peak, orgasm spilling from her lips. She felt all of him, encompassing her in a cold comforting embrace. Emet-Selch shuddered, her soul tumbling against his own, his senses becoming completely aware of her pleasure and her happiness in his embrace. Emet-Selch found his breaking point, filling her with his essence in a shuddering succession of quick thrusts. A low moan escaped him, her name nearly leaving his raw voice. Not Evelyn but the other. Instead he chanted it in his head, remembering so much of her that it nearly had him in tears. It was her, this was her. There was no denying it. Zodiark she was alive. 

Emet-Selch wrapped his strong arms around around her lithe form and buried himself into her scent. He felt her chest rise, breathless, tickling his neck. She was boneless, but still managed to wrap her arm around him. It came to her as strange. While she was expecting the roughness, the attentiveness caught her off guard. She wasn’t expecting the sudden need to bury his face in her shoulder, to grip her as if she would disappear. Her mind went to Amaurot and the amount of people he had probably lost. Perhaps it was just that. Yes, it must’ve been. 

She came down from her high first. Evelyn tapped his shoulder gently, receiving a grunt in reply. Emet-Selch fell to the other side of the bed. He snapped his fingers to rid himself of his trousers that collected around his legs. They stared at each other, silent, thoughtful perhaps. 

“That was…” She started, 

“Magnificent.” Emet-Selch muttered. He was tired, but her voice was a balm and he wanted to listen to it forever. 

A soft laugh left her. “I was going to say intense.” She hadn’t felt this calm in years. Evelyn reached out for a white strand of hair and pushed it out of his eyes. It was s gentle gesture, caring in nature. Evelyn was star struck, left in awe. What a beautiful man. It was a shame he was an ascian. 

“A bath.” Sweaty, sticky, bodies wasn’t something he looking forward to falling asleep to. 

“The Ascian still has stretch to take a bath?” she joked. 

Emet-Selch looked down at her completely unamused. Instead he picked her up from the bed and carried her to her chambers bathroom. Evelyn laughed, wrapping her arms around Emet-Selch’s neck. 

“I am finding I might have energy for a few things Hero.” 


	15. The Heartbreaking Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my friends this took forever to work on. I hit a few blocks but here it is. I should also mention that I've added some flourish to Evelyn's character. So if you notice anything different in appearance don't worry it's supposed to be there. Sometimes I don't think about this stuff ahead of time. I really enjoy writing so I just kinda go with it until I think of something else to add or to include. The chapters that have been edited for this are Evelyn's POV. 'Waking Up in the Wrong Place' Also has been given quite a bit of length so I do recommend rereading if you want some extra G'raha and Evelyn friendshipping. Please enjoy the newest chapter and look forward to some fluff from Emet and Evelyn in the next!

Evelyn awoke much later bundled up in warm blankets, the reflection of the oceans waters casting down blue hazy light. She turned in the bed and almost half expected Emet-Selch to be there waiting for her to wake up. What a disappointment it was not to be. She felt the empty expanse with her free hand. She missed his cool skin on hers. There was no time to think about that. She moved off the bed, finding that she was far more awake then she had been in weeks. She didn’t feel the lingering exhaustion from her nightmares. As a matter of fact she didn’t remember having one through her hours of sleep. A blessing, or so she hoped. 

Hythlodaeus was no where to be seen. She was alone, by herself in a room packed with memories that Emet-Selch did not share on simply a whim. Her eyes took in the room with a sort of despondency. She had only been here once, it was right before she slew him. It was their last night together. Evelyn shook her head. She rested a hand on the nightstand next to her, pulling away rather quickly at the sudden feeling of leather. Evelyn looked down and found a large tome, along with a worn pocket book. 

She froze. A picture of Emet-Selch waiting in a dining room chair reading this exact same book came to mind. It had its worn spine, its lackluster gold title. Evelyn took it tentatively between her fingers, careful, for her clawed hand could ruin it. Did she dare? Slowly, she opened the contents to the first page. Evelyn had to stop her claws from clenching around the book. Her breath shuddered in her chest, tears threatening to fall free from her eyes. There, in Emet-Selch’s elegant script was a message. 

_‘Welcome home Evelyn.’_

The book dropped to the ground and a sudden headache overtook her. The pain jolted somewhere deep inside of her, ripping her apart. She wanted to pull her hair out and scream for it to stop. Gods all she wanted was for it to still. Evelyn’s knees trembled, her clawed hand breaking through the bandages on her left arm. Her hands tangled through knotted red hair, pulling uselessly at it for some purchase. 

“Stop.” She muttered, “Please stop it I don’t want to remember!” Evelyn wasn’t sure where the words came from, or even what they meant, but the next moment that passed she wasn’t in present day Amaurot. 

_‘Our first home together, I never thought there would be a day where we would find time to be domestic.’ The keys were passed onto a man in black robes, his red mask specifically attuned to his seat in office. The Architect was brimming with a happiness, his smile crooked and soft all at the same time. He took the keys from the Amaurotine at the desk and jingled the keys with barely contained excitement._

_‘I can’t imagine what the headlines will be.’ The woman snickered, her dark deep violet hair falling out of her hood into a long braided knot over her shoulder._

_‘Emet-Selch gains a heart and Fandaniel finds her humanity in a perfect domestic bliss?’_

_She hit him in the chest and tried to hold back a giggle. ‘The press doesn’t care for such scandalous titles Emet-Selch.’ Still she bit her lip, careful to keep his name from the woman at the desk._

_She felt an arm wrapped under her legs. She gripped onto his neck, nearly falling from the perch he created for her. A soft gasp left her lips. ‘Please you’re embarrassing me!’ She glanced at the receptionist but the girl didn’t move from her place, didn’t even bother to look their way._

_‘What kind of lover would I be if I didn’t carry you over the threshold.’ His smile was infectious, light and free of any worry._

_She stole a kiss, captured his lips in hers for a brief taste of what could only be Hades. She rested her forehead against his, pressed her hands over warm cheeks. ‘Hades you lovesick fool.’_

_Hades took her up the stairs, slow and quite frankly distracted with her soft kisses. She was going to lose her mask here in a moment if she didn’t stop. It was red and sharp at the edges, shaved into points much like her spear. It didn’t take them long to find their door. Hades fumbled with the keys, his one arm still balancing her weight as if she were a feather. Hades turned the knob and shut the door behind him. His bright smile twisted into a devious smirk. He dropped her to her feet and instead wrapped his arms around her, pressing his lips fervently against hers. A moan escaped her, her fingers finding Hades robes._

_She felt her hood pushed down, her mask carefully taken off to reveal lush green eyes._

_“My—” The words came out muffled. It’s when the picture of their joyous moment flickered. Fading patches appearing in the corner of her eyes. “Welcome home.”_

“Hades!” Evelyn was back in the empty room in Amaurot. Her hands had found their way into soft carpet. Her left had completely shredded it. He arms were shaking from the vigor, from tugging and pulling. Tears collected at the corners of her eyes and fell freely down her face. “Hades.” She called out again, but there was nothing. 

Evelyn grabbed onto the books and ran out the doors. His words before his death began to echo in her ears. 

_‘Remember us.’_ Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut, and continued to run frantically through Amaurot. 

“Shut up and get out of my head!” Evelyn stopped in the middle of the Aetheryte plaza heaving and breathless. A worked its way from her throat. “Where are you! You bastard! Damn you I didn’t want to remember!” Evelyn didn’t want to remember. That faint scratching at the back of her head, a door lie, old and bolted shut. His words meant something entirely different now. Hades wanted her to remember him, to remember Amaurot. She suddenly felt horrible. A welling guilt built at the bottom of her stomach like a stone. Evelyn didn’t want to remember and yet she couldn’t help how her heart swelled at his smile. How happy he was to just be with her. 

Evelyn often wondered if Emet-Selch played her a fool. How relived she was to know it was all an act, a silly play. A great sense of relief and utter heartbreak. She pulled the books in her hands tighter to her chest. “Hades you heartless bastard!” She screamed, “I’m glad your dead! You can’t pull on my strings anymore! Can’t tug me along for you stupid games!” 

Who was she kidding, she loved all of that. All the silly useless conversation. The way his fingers felt against her skin, the smile on his thin lips. She loved every minute of every night. Waking up to him next to her left her speechless, in awe that he would even find her deserving of it. She took it for granted, both of them did. “Please Nymeia tell me its all just a game.” She whispered. She leaned against the aetheryte, the memory playing over and over in the back of her head. She needed to leave. She pressed her good hand against the aetheryte and willed herself back to Wright. From there she could grab Cosmo and ride back to the Crystarium. If she teleported that far again she was sure to be bedridden for weeks. 

When she jumped off her Chocobo, she took Cosmo to the stables and took his reigns off gently. She rested a hand over the birds beak and sighed. The books were safely tucked into a bag She thought more on the vision she had. She could only think it was an echo. But then she wondered how she could have an echo without someone with her. This was new territory that she didn’t want to explore. Evelyn sighed and rested her head against Cosmos. 

“What was her name again, Fandaniel. I wonder who that could be? Someone close to him perhaps?” Evelyn only got a ‘kweh’ in return. “Perhaps the books will tell us something hm boy? They seemed close. They moved in together and then…” Then he kissed her. The woman with dark violet locks of hair. With such a sweet fervor that it bordered on impossible in Evelyn’s sound mind. He was never so carefree. “Nor was he happy Cosmo. Always so grumpy, but he had his moments.” Her thoughts turned into broken phrases. It was silly that she was feeling a mild jealousy toward the woman in question. Emet-Selch had lived lifetimes, of course he had lovers other then her. 

_‘You wouldn’t be the first nor the last.’_

“Of course that’s what he meant.” 

“Had I thought you were keeping Cosmo company I would have coem sooner.” That voice went right through her gut. Evelyn was in trouble. “Leave us.” Whoever was still at the stables had made quick foot work where the Exarch was concerned. 

Evelyn turned to face G’raha’s tired glare. “I was worried sick.” The disappointment was thick in the air. 

Evelyn flinched and adverted her gaze. “G’raha—” 

“Look at you, you’ve lost your armor you only have your greaves and a breast plate, and what happened to your bandages?” His voice was rising, worry and frustration all in that voice with an underlining of disappointment. 

Evelyn gripped her hand, the forgotten bandages suddenly blatantly clear in her sight. It was enough to be stared at but to mention it hit her pride a little to closely. “It’s nothing I was in a hurry.” She muttered. 

“A hurry, from what? Where did you go?” It was a plea now to tell him the truth, hopefully to ease his fears. 

“Where else do you think I went, I went to Amaurot.” 

Something surged in the Exarch, a panic that gripped him. “That could have killed you! Your aether isn’t what it used to be Evelyn!” 

Evelyn bit her lip and glared at him. “Don’t you think I know that!” Her hand fell from Cosmo’s beak and the bird tried desperately to nudge it, sensing his riders distress. Evelyn looked down at her hands, two toned from her battles on the first, one with silver scars and the other veined with gold. “I’m allowed to go back am I not? I told you I would get a lexicon, so I did.” She was quiet now, no bite in her voice, no anger to throw at him. She was beyond anger these days. 

G’raha paused, his frown deepening. “I don’t care about the lexicon Evelyn. You’re life is far more important! You could have waited the extra day to return to Amaurot.”

Evelyn frowned, “Of course I could have, I just didn’t want to, it was important that we find a lexicon so we could—” 

“They’re books Evelyn, and while they may hold some historical import it will mean nothing for the problem at hand what was your real reason for returning to a city full of ghosts?” 

There was a knowing behind his eyes, something that he wasn’t telling her. She was afraid to walk over that line. She could feel the slow bubbling rage shimmer at the surface, clawing its way up her throat. Amaurot might have been a city full of ghosts but it was her city full of ghosts. “I missed it! Gods forbid I miss a small part of Amaurot, a city full of culture and glittering lights and smiling faces and creations beyond your understanding!” It didn’t sound like her. Her voice wasn’t right in her ears, and yet the words were correct. It was how she felt, even if she didn’t realize where it came from. “How dare you!” Why did that hit a nerve? “That was my home!” 

G’raha’s tail grew taunt, his expression unreadable by all means. Evelyn realized what she had said wrong. What had escaped her in a moment of grief, anger, and a fair amount of new found exhaustion. That vision might have scrambled her thoughts more then she cared for. Her home, Evelyn didn’t have a home. Whatever home she considered it was lost to time, so far lost she couldn’t even remember what it was.

 _‘Remember us.’_ Evelyn shook her head, the voice rumbling in the back of her mind. 

“Evelyn your home isn’t…” 

“Amaurot, I know, a slip of tongue be rest assured.” She clamped a hand over her eyes, shutting them tightly. There was that damn itch in the back of her head again, like she was forgetting something of monumental importance. 

“Perhaps some rest would…” 

She interjected again. “I sleep and I sleep G’raha and that’s all I’ve done for the past Twelve knows how long. I do not need sleep.”

“Then what do you need?” G’raha’s eyes were pleading now, all anger washed away replaced with worry for her. For Evelyn who looked like she would break there in front of him. 

“I need closure, and I am afraid I will never get it.” The next words out of his mouth were like a slap in the face. 

“Does this have anything to do with Emet-Selch?” 

Something horrifying gripped at her heart. A trickle of crippling fear loomed at her back. Why would he ask that? She hadn’t even mentioned his name for months. There was a small slip in front of Alisaie but she thought nothing of it. Evelyn was just reminiscing after all. What could she say? ‘I had illicit meetings with Emet-Selch and as it turns out he was the only soul on the star that treated me like an actual human being.’ Evelyn almost scoffed. As if that would ever go over well with G’raha. The two of them could never get along. They glared at each other, as if it was a great past time. Emet-Selch who was rather obsessed with the Crystal Tower and G’raha who looked at him with such disdain, like Emet-Selch had taken something that clearly wasn’t his. 

“Of course it doesn’t, don’t be ridiculous.” He was dead, and she had lived. “Emet-Selch means nothing to me.” She said it with so much conviction that something lurched. It was angry at her for even thinking the words, let alone saying them aloud. Hades meant everything to her. She knew that somewhere deep down, Evelyn just didn’t know why. 

G’raha clenched his fists, he turned his head and took a controlled intake of air. “Evelyn, I worry for your health. You mention Amaurot like it was your home, slip it in conversation as if it is still an actual city. I don’t understand…” 

“You don’t need to understand G’raha. As a matter of fact will everyone just drop it. All of sudden I’m fragile and tired and in need of a hand.” Where was it when she truly needed it? “I’m fine, G’raha, I will be fine, I am always fine. After every war, after every death, I always come out on top.” She tried to convince herself more then G’raha. That damn vision kept replying in her head. That one of Hades and that woman moving in together. What a lovely home it was. When Hythlodeaus carried her past the threshold she already knew that that place was filled up of only love and companionship. How many nights had they shared together. Did Emet-Selch make coffee for the woman like he did for her? A pang of jealously slipped passed her careful emotions. “For I am the Warrior of Light, Eikon-Slayer, Ascian-Slayer, and so many other things.” Bitterness seeped out, a new emotion was was learning to acquaint herself with. “It was just the slip of the tongue.” Evelyn did, however, fear it was much more then that. She had just scratched the surface. 

“Calling Amaurot home does not just slip from your tongue.” He pressed. 

“G’raha what do you want me to say, or better yet, what do you want to say?” 

G’raha was taken aback. Evelyn rarely had to use her tongue to get her anywhere. She had made it an art with the Ascian. With all his pretty words and devilish smiles it was good she was just as well versed into turning the conversation on its head. G’raha parted his lips, attempting to find the words. “I want you to tell me what your relationship with Emet-Selch is.” 

Evelyn’s claws dug into her hand, she could feel the sting of edged points. “You won’t like where this line of conversation goes G’raha.” She muttered, her eyes sharp. Her feelings for him would always be raw, like ripped open wounds. She could barely walk Amaurot without thinking of him. She tugged at the auracite, twisting the color gently between her fingers. They were warm and inviting. Somehow she could hear him tell her to calm down, to relax. You needn’t explain yourself, you had a right to your feelings, to your grief. Evelyn had a right to miss him so. 

“I have long waited for you to say something, You can’t lie to me about it anymore Evelyn, I know.” 

Evelyn’s gaze turned sharp. How? Why did he know? She could hear Cosmo attempt to get her attention, to shift it from the sudden jolt of emotions that overcame her. Her gaze burned holes through G’raha. She could consume him with the sight alone. G’raha suddenly felt glued to his place, like he had been caught by a predator ready to jump. This was a side of Evelyn he did not know. Thancred’s voice echoed in the back of his head. He did tell him to tread carefully. That Evelyn was prone to anger if you pressed to hard. When she wanted something dropped, it was promptly dropped. G’raha had argued that she didn’t seem the sort. But Evelyn’s anger started in Ishgard, and it groew over malms wide over the years of fighting. Even Thancred understood that. 

Evelyn clenched her jaw, setting it with barely contained anger. “Fine, you want to talk about Emet-Selch, lets talk about Emet-Selch. Do you want the fine details G’raha. Do you want the fine pointers on how he bedded me, or perhaps do you want elegant strokes of conversation first?” She laughed, flinging her arms out in a way that even he would be proud off. So over dramatic that he was the theater obsessed fool. 

“Evelyn.” 

“He was the only one G’raha. The only soul on this star that would look at me like I was a human.” She lowered her arms, lost, forgotten in a stray memory of him.

G’raha widened his eyes, and realized to late his mistake. That Emet-Selch had never told him a lie concerning Evelyn. He opened his mouth but she continued before he could get a word say in. 

“A pitiful excuse don’t you think? That an Ascian of all people might come to my side and comfort me with stupid conversation over coffee under warm light? Oh yes, he would take me to bed and run his fingers down my flesh in the sweetest of ways. He would whisper nothings in my ear half way through my journey to ease the light that threatened to come loose, encompass me in his cold aether to calm it. He would show me a side of him that none of you would ever understand. I gave him that same if not more. A side of me that no one has deigned to know. But you don’t want to hear that.” Her voice raised an octave. “You want to hear how he manipulated me with his honeyed words and his powers of darkness.” Maybe he did, who was she to say she hadn’t been tricked? Evelyn just couldn’t believe it. That everything they had discussed, the relationship they had cultivated would be dismissed so easily. Perish the thought. 

“Evelyn I—” 

She raised a hand. “He was my friend G’raha. Just as you are my friend, or Thancred, or Alisaie or anyone else I find I care about! You just don’t want to hear it was an Ascian in my bed, in my rooms, whispering things in my ear. You’ll be happy to know that our conversations never surrounded work. They were mundane, useless things. A simple comfort to both of us that are weary, tired, souls!” For she had been pulled out of the Lifestream before she had her necessary rest. Her soul hadn’t the rest it deserved in a very, very, long time. 

“There is nothing that I can say that will ease your mind G’raha. I’m sorry.” 

G’raha stayed silent for a long time. There was nothing he could say. Originally he just wanted to know why. Her friends could have provided the same comfort. He could have helped if she had decided to ask. “He was my darkness to my light.” 

Evelyn rested a clawed hand at her chest, her heart beating, fear coursing. She was expecting G’raha to hate her, look at her with disgust over the entire ordeal. “I can’t find it in me to be sorry about it G’raha. I slept with an Ascian, and that’s all. We have no relationship. I can’t have a relationship with a dead man.” She gripped the earring between her fingers, finding that the warmth there, the small bit of aether comforted her, relaxed her otherwise racing thoughts. Her shoulders slumped, as if the world had been placed on them for far too long once more. G’raha watched her visibly change from someone who could look tall and impenetrable. The undefeated Warrior of Light to a girl who had see far to much death, who had spilled far to much blood in the name of Eorzea and Hydealyn. 

“I am not your inspiration G’raha. I’m just a girl who got caught up in the affairs of the Scions. I am the only person alive who can defeat Primals and lead people through war. Shed blood without a blink of the eye. My ability to live on even if all odds are stacked against me is written in song and scripture. My tale will never die.” And yet Emet-Selch’s did. No one remembered the musing of an lost forgotten civilization that desperately wanted to continue to live and help the star thrive.

 _‘Remember us.’_ She prayed for that voice to leave her. She didn't know why it echoed so loudly in her ears all of a sudden.

Guilt took hold of her momentarily. She was terrified of remembering. Where ever the thoughts stemmed from it was in a place of fear. Of knowing something that she would never be able to forgive herself for. Evelyn cast her gaze down to the ground, staring hard at the white of hand, tracing golden lines and sharp claws with an absent minded trail. She was being selfish. She wasn’t supposed to be selfish. A soft touch was upon her cold hand, squeezing reassuringly. 

“My friend, you shall never be a disappointment to me. Whatever you found in the arms of Emet-Selch I shall not pretend to understand or know. I only wish you had come to me first.” 

Evelyn couldn’t help grip his fingers back, careful not to let her fingers bite into his skin. The comfort that he provided a balm to her otherwise shattering self. “I had hoped to get to the bottom of his manipulation. You’ll have to forgive me I couldn’t imagine—” G’raha bit his lip. “I was wrong to press the issue.” 

“Is it so wrong for me to want to keep it to myself?” She wanted to keep it in a corner of her mind. The soft sound of his voice echoing in her ears or the way he would smile at her. That smile bespoke so many things, like he hadn’t seen her in years and he was just ecstatic to be having coffee with her once more. The mundane conversation was the highlight of her night. She smiled, remembering the graze of his fingers over her back, or the cool touch of his lips on her neck. She refused to give anyone those private moments. They didn’t need them, but she did. 

“No, You don’t have to divulge anything you don’t want to.” His arms were around her then, attempting to sooth whatever thoughts had ailed her. “But should you need someone to talk to I am here.” 

“You won’t tell them.” She didn’t want to think what the Scion’s would say. “Please G’raha if I’ve asked you anything don’t tell them.” She pulled back and looked at him with such fear. “I want it kept a secret. I just—” What would she even say? There was nothing she would ever be able to say to any of them for the betrayal. 

G’raha sighed, running fingers through his head of hair. “On one condition.” 

“Anything.” She replied a little to eagerly perhaps. 

“You take better care of yourself. I can’t have you teleporting when your aether is not as it should be, or running off to Amaurot. If you do please just tell me.” 

Evelyn sighed. “Of course.” 

G’raha smiled. “Then it’s settled. It’s a deal. Now, don’t you need to get those books back to the Source?” 

“I thought they were useless.” She jabbed. 

“They are not useless to you and if it gives you some peace of mind who am I to stop you.” G’raha’s ears flickered. “But my friend. At some point I do want to know what your slip of the tongue meant. It’s far from normal to call a place you’re home when you’ve never lived in it.” 

Evelyn didn’t quite understand herself. A blurry image began to play at the corner of her vision. It was a familiar scene that she just couldn’t put her finger on. “I shall tell you when I know myself.” She mumbled, to low for him to hear. “I’ll be back soon G’raha. Send a missive if something new should arise.” 

“Of course.” He waved, watching her go. He frowned then, worry crossing his face deeper set then Evelyn would ever see. 

Somewhere far in the shade of the Crystarium a figure stood, his dark robes billowing in the wind. His arms were crossed a faint look of jealousy crossing his otherwise bored expression. “You could have been there for her for that.” The shade interjected. “She would have cried in your robes for days at your sweet return. Would have been happy to see you smile again.” 

Hades knitted his brows together, his hands clenched, sharp fingers digging into black gloves. “Why? So she can have peace of mind?” He could laugh. This shade that followed him was getting on his nerves. 

“Yes, because that is what she deserves. The longer you stay away the more she will fall.” The other robed figure pointed out as a fact. “Unless of course, you’re attempting to not be selfish. In which case you were never good at even in our younger days.” 

“Why are you still here you insufferable shade?” he waved at the shade, attempting to force the magic away but still the seemingly solid form of Hythlodaeus stood there, smug and impossibly right. 

“You should ask yourself that question, I don’t have an answer.” He shrugged. “You should know better Hades. You know why I’m here.”

Hades groaned, feeling his soul being tugged the farther away Evelyn was. How was he still alive to haunt the Warrior of all people? How cruel fate was to him? How much more could he take before he bent to their damnable will? “I have had my chances and wasted all of them. She’ll move on and find another adventure to distract her and therefore forgetting I and Amaurot. It will be better for her if she does.”

“You may try and convince yourself my friend but I fear you’re lacking the commitment.” Hythlodaeus tutted, his finger wagging at Hades. 

“I wish you wouldn't do that.” Hades set his arms across his chest again and glared at Evelyn’s back. How did the girl not even notice that the very earrings she wore in turn dragged him all over the realm with her? He wanted a nap as badly as she did but she just continued to move foreword without any thought for her safety. A daft girl indeed. Hythlodaeus just smiled. 


	16. A Reminiscent Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I intended fluff but it turned into more kinky smexy times. But there's also enough snark and some plot YAAAAY Thank you Eycel you are my bestest friend in all the talks of Emet and Evelyn. I love them so much.

Emet-Selch loved the warmth of a body. Sometimes he would imagine himself back in Amaurot when he woke up in Garlemald. His wife would lay there, sleeping soundly. Though it may have been political and he may have been a gods awful husband, he still craved the touch of a woman. Sometimes he pretended it was her, her soft smile in the morning waking up next to him. Or the way she would chide him awake after a long night in the Bureau. They took care of each other. Perhaps that’s what Emet-Selch missed the most. He convinced himself that this was perhaps why he didn’t leave the Hero alone in bed in the morning. No, he decided he wanted to stay. Because, remarkably enough it was her. Perhaps not all of her, but he could see pieces, small bits of soul that made him ache desperately for her. The iridescence and the darkness twisting together in such harmony. 

So here he lay next to her, running a thumb over her cheek. This woman would certainly be the death of him if he didn’t set a line. Emet-Selch shifted, resting a hand under his chin. He smiled despite himself, indulged in her warm aether that met his even in her sleep. Loose red hair fell over her face and Emet-Selch caught it, pushing it back behind pointed ears. She was free of the burdens of her title when she slept. Her face eased, didn’t contort in what was known as worry or weariness. Emet-Selch was free of his in her presence. He heard a low groan escape her, she twisted and reached for him, her hand resting against his chest gently. A surge of aether hit him, warming him to the touch. 

**“What time is it love?”** She mumbled incoherently. 

Emet-Selch froze, his fingers stilling over her cheek. His entire body went taunt. No, it couldn’t be, she had said herself that she couldn’t read Amaurotine. He doubted that she learned it over night, unless— Emet-Selch’s thoughts raced, all in several different directions. He didn’t want to explore any of them. He attempted to shove down the words that escaped her lips. He dared not look at her soul either, afraid of what he would find there. A loose band of light, or a dark blue color, he didn’t want to take in its visage. Instead he slid his arms around her and buried his face into her neck once more. His back hunched, a small shiver running up his spine. Nonsense. It was nonsense. 

_**“Time to wake up, Hero.”**_ He meant for it to come out in her typical Eorzean but it slipped out in Amaurotine. 

Another moan left her. She buried her face into his chest and hummed. “What did you say?” The words sounded foreign in her ears, and something her echo refused to translate for her. When she really blinked the sleep from her eyes she jumped in his embrace. Emet-Selch’s legs tangled with hers, a bare hand keeping her head close to his chest, his nose buried in the scent of her hair. Soft breath tickled her skin. When Evelyn attempted to move Emet-Selch just gripped her harder. Just like the night before, he acted as if she would disappear. 

“Emet, I can’t breathe.” She tapped his shoulder, but he did not move. He couldn’t move, if he did she would be lost to him forever once more. If only she’d let him take her away. He would give her the world. 

“Let me stay here a while longer.” He muttered. 

Evelyn let her fingers play over his back, pressing soft circles into tight muscle. No wonder he slouched the way he did. “What’s gotten into you Ascian?” 

He wondered if it was worth giving her an answer. Would it change anything? Would admitting to his folly, his sentimentality change the course of their fate? No. Emet-Selch scoffed. It would change nothing. “Just remembering.” He murmured, he felt fingers in his hair next, and like a ceural he leaned into her touch. 

“I know you don’t enjoy talking about yourself but you can tell me.” She offered it free, without any strings attached. Much like this relationship they were developing. It was dangerous, this thing between them. 

“If I say it it makes it all the more real. I’d like it to stay in my memories where it belongs, Hero.” 

Evelyn pushed back and frowned. “I have a name you know.” She wanted to be indignant but Emet-Selch’s expression was something in between sorrow and listlessness. Evelyn parted her lips to say more but found no words for him. She cupped his face between her warm hands, burning him like a Gods awful memory. She gently pressed her lips against his, her aether swooning down upon in him attempts to make him forget whatever it was Emet-Selch thought of. She flipped him on his back with ease and straddled his hips. 

“What are you doing Hero?” A small ilm of bite came back. 

“Shut up.” She muttered, pressing her forehead against his. “When you make a face like that how can I ignore you.” 

Emet-Selch blinked. He felt breasts press up against him, the weight of her heavier then he once thought. “You’re beginning to show a modicum of decency. Where’s all that snark?” 

A smirk found its way on her lips. She opened her eyes slowly, boring into his own with mischief. “Please, I leave all my snark for you Ascian. You get as much as you give.” 

Emet-Selch found her back, running soft fingers over silver scars. “Will you tell me.” He received a shiver and a soft sigh from the Warrior above him. 

“What?” She asked softly. 

“What gave you that lovely scar over your chest?” Emet-Selch’s eyes turned just as devious as hers. 

“I’ll tell you if you tell me what you thought of.” Evelyn bit her lip. 

“Bargaining with an Ascian, shall we put that down on your list of transgressions Hero.” His lips found a spot beneath her ear, kissing it softly. 

“I was deemed a sinner after our first tryst. I think illicit affairs with the Bringer of Chaos exempts me from a happy afterlife.” She squirmed, a low laugh escaping her. “Don’t do that it tickles!” 

“The Hero brought down by a sensitive spot under her ear. The Source loses their Warrior and First is ever lost to time.” 

Evelyn just rolled her eyes. “Emet-Selch taken down by the simplicities of a warm body, how vexing.” 

“Ah, mutual destruction in the morning, a fine concept for tired chatter.” There was mirth behind his voice, a mockery of his usual self slowly raising to the occasion for their daily banter. 

She laughed again, pressing warm lips against his jaw. “Back to the topic at hand Emet, will you tell me or should we conclude our morning?” She mumbled it against his skin. 

His curiosity truly burned for her. “It was a simple memory, of waking up in the morning to a similar smile. Tis’ all.” Emet-Selch closed his eyes, allowing her visage to appear briefly. Her long violet braid and her scorching green eyes, her warm smile. Everything about her was here in his arms, just in a different body, in a different time. Oh, how he wanted her to remember. 

“I don’t know rather to be insulted or curious. A lover I take it?” 

“I told you not to flatter yourself Hero. I have had many a lover but only one who could make me burn for her touch.” Here he was, burning for her touch, wanting to steal as much of her attention as possible. To drink her up like a man who hadn’t had water in days. 

Emet-Selch’s hands moved toward her rump, gripping it playfully. “It just so happens I vie for your attention as well.” 

A soft yelp escaped her. “Stop it!” She slapped his hand which only gained her another soft smirk. 

“Your turn Hero, your scar.” Emet-Selch found the beginning of that wide jagged scar at her shoulder. She hissed, her head tilting forward into the pillow. 

“Concentration?” She whispered, finding his lips across her next. He left heat in their wake, shimmering down between her legs once more. 

“I am the Bringer of Darkness Hero, you shall have none of it.” He mumbled against her shoulder. “Do tell the story.” 

She groaned, “it was Garuda.” Her fingers ran down the expanse of his chest, her aether churning. It took his breath away every time. 

“Garuda? You? nearly felled by a primal?” He cupped a breast tenderly, his thumb moving over a pert nipple. 

She pulled back, desire burning behind her eyes. Her fingers clutched the sheets beneath them and Emet-Selch felt his own need rise to the occasion. “I remember fighting.” She murmured, her head rolling back, feeling his mouth around her other. She hissed, as he nipped at her. 

“Do go on Hero.” She fell on her back onto the bed, his mouth attacking her down her chest to the bottom half of her jagged scar. His tongue darted out against it once more. 

“Fighting, dodged the aspected wind attacks. Such marvelous foot work.” She arched and moaned out at the thought. Fighting always did give her a high. 

“Is that a sense of ego I hear dripping from your voice Hero?” His fingers continued to play with her breasts, her back arching into his touch with an eager greediness. Evelyn attempted to buck her hips towards his but he pulled away. “Tsk tsk, none of that, not until you finish.” 

Evelyn growled, her fingers finding the open cuts at his back, dried now and scabbing over. She heard a low hiss escape the Ascian above her. “Two can play at that game.” 

It seemed that Emet-Selch was not in the mood however. He gripped her wrists and pushed them up above her head. “Naughty vixens don’t get to have fun.” 

Evelyn attempted to move her hands but found them stuck. Her sight rested above her, a sound of shock escaping her. “What in the seven hells is that Ascian!” They looked like black-gray bands. She had never seen such a thing. 

“Why my Dear Hero, they are aetheric bonds. Something you will never escape.” He whispered it in her ear. “Now go on, continue your tale so we might get on with the day.” 

Evelyn threw her head into the pillow, a red flush creeping upon her face. She could feel cold touches prickle across her skin, playing with sensitive scars and flesh all at the same time. She twisted under the practiced aether of Emet-Selch. It was so very foreign, eliciting another moan. She couldn’t even began to think about Garuda. Emet-Selch could only marvel at his masterpiece, her lips parted and so close to that tendril of aether, hot breath fanning over the sensitive limb. 

“Emet, please.” 

“Your story Hero.” 

Evelyn protested, the feeling that overcame her it was so overwhelming she couldn’t even begin to complain. It felt so good whatever it was she didn’t want it to stop. She bucked her hips again for friction but she received nothing in return. She tried to remember what happened next, The feeling of heated kisses near her navel, soft biting making her twitch. “Foot work,” Yes her footwork, was flawless but— “Garuda.” She moaned out her name, even though she did not mean it as such. Damn the Ascian. “She flew up into the air.” She shuddered, the invisible fingers sliding between wet lips, rubbing her gently as Emet-Selch continued his trail or even wetter kisses. Evelyn pulled at her bonds and found no avail, she tried to close her legs at the sudden slick sensation down there but found that Emet-Selch wouldn’t let her. 

“My comrades had moved away from her previous spot, scattered.” She moved against the coldness between her legs. Still confused as to what it was but far to distracted to think on it further. “Emet.”

Emet-Selch smiled against her skin, his eyes locking hers in his heated gaze. His hand slipped between her legs, a thumb resting against her bundle of nerves but refusing to move it. After all his Hero would do all the moving he needed. Already she rubbed herself against him shamelessly, lost in the pleasure of his aether, her own reaching out and gently feeling for him, exploring curiously. “To intense, I don’t understand.” Her hands gripped the pillow above her. 

“They scattered Dear. What happened?” He whispered, hot against her navel. She jerked in response. 

“Garuda, she attacked me from the sky, her claws bearing down in a quick, violent flurry. They tore into me, blood spilling from my body like a fountain. I blacked out. My comrades retreated with me tow.” 

“Good girl.” He muttered. Evelyn felt the tightness of her bonds disappear. Her eyes met aurum orbs, so full of mischief and desire for her attention alone. She was beginning to understand that he just wanted her attention, her soft touch. Evelyn bit her lip before she flipped the Ascian over onto his back. 

“Keep touching me, whatever they are they feel lovely.” She whispered, lulling her head back above him. She lost herself in his aether, arching each time they caressed her, her hips rocking against Emet-Selch’s hardened member. Her chest heaved, rising, falling with breathlessness. Her face fell into a disastrous mix of lost bliss. All by Emet-Selch’s talented hands. She pressed her fingers into her chest, positioning herself correctly where his throbbing member waiting. Emet-Selch rested his hands under his head, watching how she fell apart with just the touch of his aether. His became more frantic the more hers twisted and vied for that dark coolness she craved. The image of mixing colors always left him in awe. Sometimes that was all he could concentrate on so long ago. She would chide him for it, but he would argue that beyond her body she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Emet-Selch reached out for her with eager hands, but she slapped them away. 

She smirked, rubbing the tip of his member against her wet folds. “Naughty Ascian’s don’t get to have fun.” Throwing his words right back in his face. 

Oh, she was a vixen. She would have him one way or another. A trickle of adrenaline seeped into his body. A low sigh escaped him against his wishes. “Now shall we play a game? Will Emet ask for me to sink down on his dick, or will he be denied?” She asked, devilishly so. 

Emet-Selch groaned. Yes he remembered this quite vividly, the damn minx, whenever he relinquished control she would demand that he ask nicely or else he was denied. He feared what she would do if he didn’t far more then back when they were young and naive. He felt himself twitch against her folds, the warmth undeniably her, so close and yet so far away. How he would sink himself into her and pull those lovely moans from her throat like a symphony. “Please, oh great Warrior of Light, let me fuck you.”

Evelyn crashed into his mouth. In a single movement, he felt a hard bite of his bottom lip, her nails ripping down his chest and finally, that sopping warmth he craved. Emet-Selch moaned against her. The pain and the pleasure all mixing into a heady sensation for him. His hands found her tangled locks of hair, blood welling on his chest, the taste of copper in his mouth. Evelyn pulled back and arched her back, moving her hips eagerly against him, moaning,. 

“And what was that for?” Emet-Selch ran a hand up her abdomen, curious. His hardness throbbed inside of her, her walls clinging against him wet and hot. 

Her hand snaked around his neck, a single finger resting against his bottom lip. He was completely enraptured in her. Her soul came crashing down against his and he did not fight it, instead he reveled in it, the violence of it was marvelous, she was claiming him as hers and the thought of that nearly had him tumble. Her vigor was commendable. 

“The next time you decide to throw my title at my face, I will make you suffer.” There was a dangerous promise in her words. Her hips bucked, mouth moving down to his chest. She flicked her tongue out against her marks, humming as he hit a sweet spot within her. The control was empowering, the way his face crumbled under her ministrations was pulling her into a haze. She barely recognized herself. Wasn’t she supposed to be leaving for Amh Areang. Something told her sink into him, to continue to squeeze the ever growing member between her legs. 

Emet-Selch smirked, a low laugh that soon turned into a guttural moan. “You are a beast.” He murmured, fingers gripping Evelyn’s hips, pulling her forward, his own hips thrusting upward into her. “How debauched. The Warrior enjoying bloodletting and fucking an Ascian.” There was just a hint of ego, a snippet of primitive joy that the Warrior of Light might fall to his feet begging him to bed her once more. The need to possess her was ever growing stronger. He allowed himself to bit back, his soul pushing against her in a heady rush. 

Evelyn threw her head back and screamed out his name. “Again, I can’t.” Her fingers ran through her hair, her hips becoming quick, the sound of their joining loud in her ears. “Emet, please, I’m begging you, more!”

“Enough!” He growled, low in his throat. Emet-Selch took back his control and threw her onto her knees. “What a savage you are, one touch and you’re gone.” He gripped a fist full of her hair and pulled her back, slamming between her needy depths. Evelyn’s eyes widened, feeling Emet-Selch hit her deeper then he had last night. Lights danced behind her vision. That all encompassing feeling overwhelming her, her fingers digging into the pillows as he slammed back into her again. She couldn’t even muffle her voice, his hand kept taunt in her head of hair. 

Her voice rose for him again, his name falling from her like a prayer. There was no Hydaelyn, only him, her only God. The amount of curses that escaped her was a shock even to Evelyn’s ears. All she could feel was him. In her, around her, until at one point she could have sworn they were two sides of the same coin. Emet-Selch took a delicate wrist and pulled her body against his. His throbbing member stayed embedded within her, her hips attempting to find purchase. “Now beg for it Hero, so we may get on with the day.” He purred into her ear, hot breath tickling her neck. Evelyn shivered. Gods this man could take her to Heaven and she would never want to come down. 

“Please, please, I want more, I need you. Emet, Emet, Emet.” She felt her head pressed into the bedsheets, and like an animal Emet-Selch rode her, lips descending down against her back in soft sweet kisses, melting her. Her entire body turned into a live wire for the Ascain to spark over and over again. That same toe curling sensation mounted in her stomach and before she knew what happened, she fell over the edge with Emet-Selch not far behind her. She pushed up from her place, arching her back like an elegant bow, her vision blurring from the high that she reached with him. Emet-Selch rested his forehead against the back of her neck, riding out his own high, breathless. He still felt her soul rock against his, shaking like a leaf. What would he do to just meet her as himself, as an amaurotine soul without this damnable flesh in the way. She fell from him, boneless and throughly fucked. 

She rolled over on her back and sighed, letting out a laugh. A large grin reached her face, and Emet-Selch found that it was for him alone. His heart swelled. He felt hands bring him down to her, a soft kiss landing on his chin. “I will never understand the attraction.” She stated, out of breath. 

Emet-Selch fell beside her, hand reaching for hers. He was always so damnably sentimental after sex. He could blame his host but Emet-Selch knew it to be irrefutably his own doing. Evelyn tangled her fingers in his and hummed. “What’s there not to like Hero?” 

“Says the man who called himself the hand of darkness while distracting me from speaking properly.” She giggled, covering her mouth to muffle it down. 

“I do love your symphony of screams in the morning.” He waved his hand, his lip still bloody and swollen, the tears down his chest red around the edges. Emet-Selch didn’t mind in the least. The stinging aftermath was reminiscent of an older time. He was content. “I couldn’t tell if you were turned on for Garuda or your battle with her.” He smirked, eyes gliding her way. 

Evelyn turned red. “Gods that’s an entirely different conversation that we can have later tonight.” 

“Tonight? Oh, Hero, I’m sorry to say I will not be following into the desert.” 

Evelyn scoffed, “Who said I would drag you to Amh Araeng? I can just whistle and you might whisk me away back to the Pendents in a quiet harmony.” 

Emet-Selch raised a brow. “You would trust me to take you through the void back to the Pendents?” What was this? A farce? The Hero giving out her trust? It was laughable. “And What if I… Say want to take you far away from your friends and kill you? Or perhaps keeping you as a personal plaything would sound better. I do have a myriad of ideas to bend you so low.” 

Evelyn bit her lip. “I don’t get the sense that you will. And if you do it was my folly for following along whatever—” She waved between the two of them. “Whatever this is.” 

“You would call this a beneficial relationship. We don’t lose anything from it. As long as it stays between us.” Emet-Selch rubbed a thumb on the inside of her hand. 

Evelyn’s eyes fluttered, “What is that?” Evelyn pressed her other hand into his free one, feeling the cool prickling of something against her skin once more. 

“What?” Emet-Selch acted as if he didn’t know. It wasn’t possible for him to keep his aether to himself when she was near. It just naturally found her when she was so close. 

Evelyn squirmed closer, pressing her forehead against his again. “That coolness of your touch. I can feel you even now. It’s hard to pull away from. I felt it Rak’tika too, the first time our hands brushed.” 

“You can tell then?” Emet-Selch asked. 

“It is — achingly familiar, much like Amaurot and its glittering spires.” She murmured, her mind somewhere else entirely. “It’s why, I tried to ignore it. My feelings when you’re around, they vex me. You vex me so Emet-Selch.” 

“Shall I bargain with you?” There was mischief there, a certain lure that he knew the Warrior could not deny. “Your honest feelings in exchange for your question answered.” 

Evelyn parted her lips, something on the tip of her tongue, but before she could speak it there was a knock. The Warrior jumped so fiercely that she fell onto the hard ground. There was a pained moan that left her. “Gods damn you Ascian my hips.” She looked close to tears. 

Emet-Selch lazily poked his head over the corner of the Hero’s bed. His expression of indifference carefully back in place. “Oh my, that does sound like a problem Hero. A word a of thanks later and I might entertain the thought of further. Throughly. Destroying you.” His voice dropped an octave, a sly smirk placed over his lips, eyes smoldering and fierce like a predator. 

Evelyn gapped, she was ready to slap him and Emet-Selch was all but willing to take it. “Piss off Ascian.” She whispered, seething. 

“Evelyn, it’s time to go, we’re off to Amh Araeng soon, are you up?” 

“Unfortunately!” She shouted through the door, loud enough for Alisaie to hear her. 

“That sounded like sarcasm.” She sounded as if she huffed. “May I come it?”

Evelyn turned taunt on the floor. She looked to Emet-Selch who simply lied there twirling a a loose strand of white hair between his fingers. He seemed to snap from his reverie, which was all a silly act for his Hero. “What?” 

“A bit of help, perhaps?” She asked with clenched teeth. 

“Oh, I think not, the Hand of Darkness has work to do.” He sighed dramatically. “How can I keep my title when I help mine enemy back up to her feet?” 

“I will take my lance and shove it somewhere where you might really scream about it.” She was so close to shouting, Emet-Selch could not help but find it ever so endearing.

“And where would that be Hero? Do try and indulge me.” 

Evelyn grappled onto the lip of her dresser and picked herself up. “I forgot who I bedded, foolish was I.” She cursed. There was time to scream at him later, for now she needed to find her pants. “Give me a moment Alisaie, I am still rather indisposed!” 

“Oh I would say thoroughly disposed.” Emet-Selch rested a hand under his chin, one knee bent, the sheets hanging off of his body in a way that made Evelyn want to tear them back off and beg him to ravish her again. Damn him. Why did he look like a portrait? A very, good looking portrait. Evelyn found herself turning red again. 

“I will end you.” She muttered, attempting to find her feet again. She would make him pay. Evelyn did not know how yet, but she would. With that in mind, she slowly began to collect her clothes, the Ascian watching her every move, collectively. 

Perverse bastard. 


	17. Do You Speak Amaurotine?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me entirely to long to think of. Also Urianger is a pain to write so I'm sorry if it's not as good as it should be I tried. Also I have interested my best friend from bookclub cause now she's just existing in this AU with me. HI ESTIL!!!

Evelyn found Ul’dah’s heat something to be desired. She pulled down her sapphire hood at some point, allowing hot wind to blast past her. Her hair was in a tight ponytail, the sun brighter than ever in her left eye. It was strange. She hadn’t been to Ul’dah and her barren lands for months. But bright white light blurred at the corner of her vision. She pulled back on Cosmo’s reins, the bird slowed its step to a halt. Evelyn rubbed her eye, squinting until there were dotted lights behind her lids. The light persisted at her, a constant reminder of what she had to suffer to get here back to the Source. It would remind her of nearly transforming into a Lightwarden. She vividly remembered the pain. It was like the fabric of her being was slowly tearing at the seams.

Evelyn often found herself searching for that feeling, wondering if it was lying dormant and the rest of the light was just waiting to be pulled through her, sucking her aether and soul dry until she was nothing but a malformed beast. Evelyn’s lips formed into a deep frown. 

_ ‘What a disappointment you turned out to be.’ _

Evelyn remembered dry air, and the smell of smoke and sandalwood. Emet-Selch’s careful mask of indifference placed over his features for the play they had written the night before. 

_ ‘What irony, what Vauthry achieved through bliss you will achieve through despair, a fitting fate for one such as you.’ _

Eveyln squashed down the memory. How dare he play on her emotions like that before running back to her arms a few nights later.

_ ‘You decided on this course Hero not I, don’t blame me if my words sting for they are not wholly untrue. You must remember I will always be an Ascian.’ _

“I will always want my home back first and foremost.” She muttered, his words leaving her lips like a song gone wrong. Evelyn couldn’t find it in herself to stay angry. Some part of her found that she deserved it, though it was completely unwarranted. He was the one vying for genocide, he was the one that destroyed homes, families, shattered stars all to bring glory back to Zodiark. Emet-Selch was not a good man.

**_‘KWEH!’_ **

Evelyn broke from her reverie, blinking several times before her hands descended on Cosmo’s feathered neck. “I’m sorry Cosmo, I was lost in thought.” What was she doing thinking of all that? She felt something lurch in her. A chill ran up her spine, fingers twitching. “He didn’t mean any of it of course.” Or so she tried to convince herself. She pulled out the small pocket book, worn with tears from overuse. 

She opened the flap and glared at her name that was written there. She jumped off Cosmo and sighed. If she rode the bird any farther she’d only get distracted and that made Cosmo nervous. He was so well attuned to her emotions that it was terrifying sometimes. “Come on Cosmo, we’re about a mile away from Horizon. We’re almost there.” 

She dipped her head in the small book. Though she did not understand an onze of it, the elegant script was familiar to her. Emet-Selch and the others that were written in Amaurotine. It played at the corner of her thoughts. Those words written with such love. She loathed that she couldn’t understand it. 

_‘What is this now?’_ a pause. 

_‘A book? Of what?’_ Laughter permeated her ears, so close that she had to stop in the middle of Horizon’s square. It sounded like bells, his laugh. It warmed her heart and dared to tear it out all in one swift movement. Surely it was that same woman, the one with dark violet hair. Evelyn shook her head again and huffed. She didn’t even exist. She was Amaurotine, a figment of her imagination. She was beautiful and terrifying and so warm all at the same time. Emet-Selch would have liked her. Evelyn was — none of those things. She was broken, fractured and so lost in a Maelstrom of confusion and grief she couldn’t find her way out of her hole. 

Evelyn turned the page to random script, words on a page she did not recognize all jumbled but beautiful all the more. She felt her headache start with a soft throbbing that slowly escalated to a full blown migraine. “Ow! Come on. I was skimming.” She shut the book and grumbled. Damn Amaurot and their old texts. Evelyn sighed, before tying Cosmo up to the post outside of the Waking Sands. She hoped the Urianger wasn’t somewhere off reading aetherial readings in Eorzea. What a shame it would be to learn that all her work was for naught. Evelyn should have stayed in the First but here she was chasing a fool's dream. She patted Cosmo, resting her head against his neck for a small respite of comfort. The Chocobo had turned into something of an ally when she was too lost in thought. Cosmo made a small noise of contentment. There was a rush of wind that blew past her, her hair billowing behind her. 

Sea breeze, which brought out a dull ache in her heart. It did not smell like the seas of The Tempest but it might as well have been close enough. Amaurot waited in the sea for her, she couldn’t deny that it called back for her even now. If she decided to search the Source’s sea would she find it gone under eons of sand and silt? 

“Nonsense.” The creaking boat echoed in her ears, the faint chatter in the background distracting her from her ever wandering thoughts. Her fingers reached for her auracite. Was this what survivor's guilt felt like? She had brought it up at one point. It did turn into quite a fight. Evelyn took another deep breath, she could do this. She would face whatever truth was in those books, she swore she would. Evelyn wasn’t sure where the resolve came from but she felt a sudden need to know. Less it drive her mad. With that thought in mind she pushed the double doors of the Waking Sands open and moved down the steps light and quiet. 

“Evelyn to what dost I owe thou pleasure?” Urianger sat there sitting at a table scattered with books. The smell was intoxicating to Evelyn’s senses. She missed books, so much. 

“Actually, I have a bit of a favor to ask.” She unpinned her cloak and threw it on the chair, slung off her bag and rested it on the table where all Urianger’s books were scattered. There were forgotten crates and empty tables. It was just Urianger here and a few others that were probably stationed in the next room doing one thing or another. All for Eorzea. 

“Well, come sit, we shall talk.” 

Evelyn pulled out a chair and took out the few books she brought back from the first. “I need you to keep a secret.” 

Urianger frowned, and suddenly the air became far more heavier. He pushed his books aside and rested his hands under his chin. “Go on then, we shall see if I can keep thy secret.” 

Evelyn bit her lip before pushing the lexicon toward the elezen. Urianger knitted his brows together in confusion. “I have not seen this before, where didst thee find it?” 

Evelyn ran her fingers through red hair, her gaze dropping to her bandaged hand. Peace did not do well for her. She was restless still and bored. “There’s an issue in the First, something that is connected to the Ascians.” She mumbled. 

Urianger’s head snapped up. “And thou has not reported to the other Scions?” 

“I came here first in hopes you might help me understand its words. It’s an Amaurotine Lexicon.” 

She hadn’t realized the words out of her mouth would warrant a reaction. Urianger ever the bookworm, took it from her hands and looked it over with dramatic curiosity. He turned it over in his hands and marveled at the leather, the bindings, even the small book mark that stuck out between the worn pages. Gently, he placed it on the table and opened its contents. Thought Urianger knew how to keep a straight face but the way his eyes lit up was admirable. 

“I know right? It is remarkable.” 

“More remarkable then I would have first thought.” His eyes skimmed the few pages, shock slowly turning into wonderment. “Why Tis’ all in perfect Eorzean that cans be translated into Amaurotine. Where ever did thou find this?” 

Evelyn bit her lip again and scratched her arm out of habit. “Well, if I said I found it by a sentient shade you would think me crazy.” She laughed nervously. 

“My friend, if it is thee I shan’t be shocked by any method you found it.”

Evelyn almost laughed. Leave it to Urianger to care less about the details and more about what was in front of him. “I can’t make sense of it. Honestly I’d like to stay a few days if would help explain the finer details. To teach me the language.” 

“Can thy echo not read it?” 

Evelyn felt a pang in her chest at the admittance now. It was a feeling of forgetting something critical to herself. The book in her pocket suddenly felt heavy, and a wave of emotions overcame her. “Well, no unfortunately. I can understand it from mouth but anything else is impossible. It just gives me a headache.” Evelyn took out the other books, a medium sized one and a smaller one all worn and withered. “I’ve nothing better to do with my time so we might as well.” 

“Truly art thou willing to learn along with me? It is not easy work.”

“I need this Urianger.” She felt a primal need to discover what these books contained. What if it was about Zodiark? Or what if it was something they could use. What about the writing in her small pocket book. Her heart ached, and she rested her bandaged hand over her chest. “Will you keep it a secret for now? At least until the books are translated and we can share it with the rest of the Scions?” 

“Of course, but first thine arm.”

Evelyn suddenly faltered. She looked down at her bandaged arm, flexing the fingers slowly. “Urianger please.” Her voice was almost pleading. “My arm shall be well and fine. There’s naught to be worried about.” 

“I insist, thine arm is in stasis, Y’shtola and I have promised to look after you with that in mind.” 

Evelyn tried to protest, her lips parted but nothing came out. She rolled her eyes and her shoulder slumped. “Only because you’re the only one that can translate Amaurotine.” 

She began to unbutton her black shirt. She had no need for her armor today nor did her body feel like lugging it around. Sometimes she thought a profession with lighter armor would suit her. Every time Evelyn tried something else however she always ran back to her lance. Her weapon of choice was a comfort in battle. A pity because if she had learned how to wield a sword perhaps her battles with Zenos would have come easier to her. She pushed off her button-up and threw it to the chair. With even quicker movements she rolled up the sleeve of her undershirt and unraveled the bandages. 

Evelyn hated looking at it. It’s cold whiteness, the color of nothingness. The gold veins twisting over her arm like bands. It became patchy at her shoulder, melded into a few stray scales up her neck. The hunger for aether was not present but she remembered it. She remembered looking at Emet-Selch and wanting that sweet aether on her tongue. She understood before then that he was sharing aether with her in some capacity but she had never craved it the way a sin eater did. She wanted to drink Emet-Selch up and never give him back. A part of her swallowed hard at the thought, her throat growing dry. That was the strange part. It was that she still thought about it. She still ached for his aether and she didn’t know if it was the lingering hunger of a sin eater or the ache in her heart for him. She gave Urianger her hand, palm upwards. Her sharp claws gleaming under the light. 

Urianger turned her hand in his. There was a visible shiver from the cold, always so frigid like Ishgard’s constant winters. “Sorry.” Evelyn looked down at the books she brought in for Urianger. She couldn’t help the embarrassment that overcame her. Why was she stuck with this damned sin eater’s arm? 

“Tis not thy fault.” Urianger’s fingers were oddly gentle over her skin. Evelyn tilted her neck to the side to show off climbing scales, and he examined those as well. None had grown, there was no sign of new ones growing anywhere else she knew of. “How is thy sight? Y’shtola was most worried over thee white streak in thou eye.” 

“Just blurry white edges but otherwise I can see just fine.” 

Urianger tilts her head back and she lets him. It wasn’t anything new, Y’shtola did the same ministrations since she returned from the First. “I have noticed I can’t teleport long distances anymore. I can’t remember the last time I had teleportation sickness.” Now that she thought about it, was it normal to not feel your legs after such a journey? 

“Something akin to what a child might have learning how to teleport.”

“Teleporting was not my strong suit for a long while.” She knew what was next, and she started to move her arm carefully, flexing fingers, stretching her shoulder’s back before touching each tip of her clawed finger to her thumb. The soft clank of them echoing in her ears. She would never get used to her arm. 

“All seems well.” Urianger helped her bandage her arm back up, tightening the fabric around her shoulder where her skin turned light and flesh toned once more. “Shall we consume these books?” 

  
  


Evelyn found that working with Urianger was calming in a sense. His light feet and quiet nature was something she found a small comfort in. Hours passed, and while Urianger explained the complexities of language and linguistics, she wrote down the notes in a way she could better remember. Evelyn oddly caught on quicker then even Urianger. The beginning of sounds began to form in her head but they yet did not give her words, not the ones she was looking for yet. Still the repetition of sounds that left her lips felt right. She played with them on her tongue and somehow she knew it to be right. She could blame it all on her echo. It could be that it was slowly becoming accustomed to translating the dead language. However, the more that she ignored the pocket book she had kept to herself the more she wondered if there was something more that she yet did not want to think on. She heard that scratching at the back of his, faint for now but she knew it would grow. Something told her whatever it was was waiting to burst forth and break whatever spell that held it there. 

Evelyn sat there, attempting to make sense of what seemed to be an essay in her hands. She would look back through her notes briefly, flip a few pages from her lexicon before writing it in Eorzean in a completely different book. She did this frequently, the smell of old worn pages, written in even older script flipped over once, twice, and then a third time before she continued onto the next letter, or the next work. She had barely passed fifty words by the time she had to rest her head on the desk. Her head was spinning and her stomach began to protest due to lack of food. Urianger picked his head up from his continuous script. He looked mildly amused. 

“Perhaps a break is in order?” Urianger stood from his chair and cracked out a tense muscle in his neck. “There might be food in Horizon to thy liking?” 

“Food?” Evelyn groaned

“If I remember correctly, thou enjoyest something sweet after a long day of work.” 

“Gods let's hope there’s coffee.” Evelyn muttered. 

The slow walk helped her clear her mind of all the new symbols flashing through her head. “Amaurot was quite — advanced for its time. Individuality wasn’t warranted because there was only peace. From the sounds of it. The world below it however did have its tensions.” 

“Mortals even then had their struggles. Man is not always good, they tumble but they always rise back up for a new occasion.” Urianger stated, always wise in words. 

“That’s what they mean by stewards of the star. I wonder what went wrong, it doesn’t make any sense.” 

“How dost thou reckon?” 

“They were an intelligent civilization.” From what she read anyway. “So why Zodiark? Why not Hydaelyn first?”

“Hydaelyn sundered the world and everything in its path. Tis’ would gain naught to bring her into existence, but Zodiark’s promised the return of lost loves and the the survival of the star.” 

Something surged in her, a fiery rage that she could not put her finger on. “Even at the cost of all those lives.” It wasn’t fair. It was foolishly ignorant. 

.

_ It is the Gods’ hubris that must be judged _

Evelyn blinked, where had that thought come from? She stopped under the tunnel leading to Horizon. She rubbed her forehead and shook the thought away as quickly as it had come. 

Urianger turned back an evident frown on his face. “Do not dally behind.” 

Evelyn shook her head before running to catch up with Urianger, whose legs were far too long. She even had trouble keeping up with the astrologian. At least he hadn’t noticed the worry cross her face. That was the last thing she needed. Urianger worrying about her next. It wasn’t bad enough that Y’shtola looked at her strangely every time they saw each other now. They moved with a comfortable silence. Evelyn lost in her thoughts about a particular Ascian and Urianger most likely wondering about the books back in the Waking Sands. 

The loud noises of Horizon broke her from her reverie. She quickly ran up to one of the various tables stealing a seat. Her stomach rumbled again. If she didn’t get food soon she might have very well collapsed. She rested a hand against the book that she kept, double checking that it was there safely tucked away. Perhaps she could now read that name. Urianger brought back a tray of tea, plums and stew.

“You did not have to go so far—” 

“Perish the thought. Thou are hungry and thou has helped in aiding with the Amaurotine tombs.” 

Evelyn took a plum between her fingers and took a well needed bite. The sweetness of it burst in her mouth, and a sound of contentment left her. She loved plums, so soft and sweet and juicy. “I didn’t think you remembered what fruit I enjoyed.” 

Urianger’s lips turned upward. “Thancred is helpful in small reminders when he decides to come down from Garlemald.” 

“Is he still in Garlemald working with Gaius?”

“Surveying the civil war closely next to the Black Wolf.” 

Evelyn’s lips turned into a frown, there was a hint of worry and a small lingering guilt that she had not reached out to Thancred in the coming months. Tired as she was and distracted by her nightmares she didn’t have the mindset to even send out a missive. “What of Zenos?” 

“Nothing, he has not taken the throne so Garlemald is falling faster, we’re hoping that the fighting doesn’t add to the stress in Eorzea.” 

“But there’s always the chance. I hope Thancred comes home soon, I do miss him.”

Evelyn’s admittance was easy, thinking on Thancred now perhaps a good drink with the man and some conversation might raise her spirits. There was nothing like forgetting your problems in a pint of mead. They could dance under the stars and talk about his latest mission on Garlemald and — Evelyn pictured Emet-Selch, taking her in his arms to dance around the Crystarium’s tavern, she tried not to turn red. The earful that she got was awful the next morning but Gods waking up to him next to her was a bliss she didn’t know she craved. It was the most fun she had had since she was pulled to the First. 

“Perhaps he’ll return with a new slew of information for us. The Black Wolf too.” 

Evelyn looked wistful out towards the sky, her plum forgotten and her thoughts wavering to something else. “We can only hope.” 

Urianger sipped the last of his stew and put the empty bowl on the tray. “Shall we head back? I’m sure there’s a wellspring of information waiting for us.” 

“A moment to myself if you will.” 

Mild concern passed Urianger but he otherwise nodded. “Of course, I shall see thy soon.” 

Evelyn watched as Urianger disappeared behind the crowd. How many lies was she going to pile up before they found out what was going on? Surely she couldn’t keep this to herself over long. G’raha already knew the truth so did that mean the others did too and just decided to stay silent on the matter. If that were the case Evelyn felt that a far more harsh betrayal. Evelyn took another bite of her plum, finishing it down to the core, greedily so. She reached into her pocket, fingers brushing that familiar leather once more. Perhaps now she could decipher that message, maybe some of the words written throughout the pages. She placed the ragged thing on the table, flipped open the lip of the book. 

Her fingers grazed over elegant handwriting. A slight ache in her temple hit, a short throbbing that stayed with her as she shuffled through the symbols and letters she’d just learned. She willed herself to fight through the increased throbbing in her temples. 

_ ‘To my Hades, _

_ ‘How I have toiled attempting to find you something appropriate for the Starlight Festival. I fear that I’ve failed you, however, I do still hope you will read it. I love you.  _

_ Forever and always, Adrestia’  _

Evelyn felt a lone tear slip down her face, warm to the touch. Something shattered, the thing inside her lurching violently before the pain washed across her temples. She gripped the ledge of the table, her clawed hand ripping through the bandages and digging into wood. She was no longer in Horizon. She found herself under the falling spires of Amaurot from above, but it changed, flickering to something far more worse. Flames licked the ground, bodies scattered in dark robes. Towering over them was a woman, clad in armor she did not recognize, her violet braid whipping in the firelight. Evelyn looked down at her hands, blood coating them, dripping like rainwater.

“No.” She whispered. “No, please I don’t want to remember.”

Her voice broke through the air. The crackling was loud in her ears, the faint sounds of screaming filtering through the silence. Slowly, that woman turned, her gaze resting upon Evelyn with those self-same eyes. Dark green pools pierced her, blood splattered over her face. The spear between her elegant fingers made a soft swish. 

“The Gods’ hubris must needs be judged.” 

Evelyn’s fingers tangled through her head of hair, her ponytail falling out, red melding with the fire that licked the barren ground. The woman took one step, eyes devoid and tired, sure of her next course of action. “I will have my vengeance.” 

Why did Evelyn have the sense that that’s not what happened, she took a step back, fear gripping her. The picture flickered again, a pain so sharp that she couldn’t tell where it came from. She had the sudden notion that she couldn’t breathe anymore. Her fingers reached for her neck, clawing at her windpipe with her hands. Something warm seeped out from her chest. She attempted to focus her sight again, scrambling for some explanation. A blurry face bore back into hers under the cover of darkness, purple hues staring down at her with mild disappointment, disdain even. Evelyn’s fingers twitched, something hard clattering to the ground. 

“Zodiark…” She pulled back, feeling herself falter to her knees. She called out a name, foreign on her tongue but there was no voice she could hear. Everything went silent, the flickering flames did not crackle. The smell of smoke ceased to be, red copper all but ignored. Whatever warmth in her body turned into ice, the rage that pooled in her subsiding into dull embers. “No, no, no,” Her mind searched for something different to cling onto, but she found only horror in its place, then darkness. 

  
  
  
  


Evelyn shot up in a bed that wasn’t her own, her fingers going for her throat. She took in a deep breath, as if she hadn’t come up for air in weeks. It hurt. She took in another hard gasp and found the pain sitting there at her throat. Where was she? Soft candlelight flickered off warm wooden walls, the bed beneath her was uncomfortable and hard, there was a curtain pulled across the left side, keeping her away from curious gazes. She ran cold claws against her temples, grazing the skin there. She pulled back quickly and realized that her bandages were gone yet again. Evelyn wished they would stop doing that. They were there for a damn reason. 

Evelyn fell back into bed, a loud creak resounding against the walls. The curtain slipped by revealing a face she swore she had seen before. The image slowly fell away, revealing someone else completely. Evelyn blinked. 

“Oh thank the stars, I thought you would never wake up.” She held a pitcher of water in her arms, a look of worry crossing her delicate face. 

She had blond locks of hair the color of a pale sun rising over Ala Mihgo, dark skin kissed by the earth. Her orbs a dark violet. Evelyn stilled for a moment, fear gripping her chest as she could acutely remember that pain and that gaze. She shook her head and took a deep breath. “Where am I?” 

“Oh, I had to take you away from Horizon. Can’t have people thinking the Warrior of Light is having a mental break.” She meant it lightly but Evelyn frowned.

Wonderful, another admirer hoping to gain some meager favor. She threw her legs over the bed to stand up. “We’ll thank you, I’ll be sure to repay you somehow.” Perhaps too much of her bitterness had dripped from her voice. 

“Oh, no I’m sorry that’s not how I meant it. I was passing by and you were… In the throes of something violent. I was worried and so I decided to take you away from Horizon.” 

“My book! Where is it!” It struck her, her heart dropping at the thought of losing that small book. 

“Oh, you mean this?” She pulled it from the drawer next to the bed. “It’s rather old looking.” She scratched her cheek with one finger nervously. “I tried to be careful.” 

Evelyn’s gaze narrowed on the small book. She took it gingerly between her fingers and sighed. She suddenly felt bad. Here she was thinking such bitter things. Not everyone was out for her because of her title. “Where are my manners.” Her voice came out quiet and tired. “I’m Evelyn, and you?” 

She smiled, warm and welcoming. “I’m Caur.” 

Evelyn’s heart did a flip. She averted her gaze and bit her lip. “Nice to meet you.” 

Perhaps they could be friends? The Warrior of Light found it a strange thought in itself. But something about the girl spoke to her in a way she didn’t understand. 


	18. To Share Yourself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just gonna put this here. You'll have to forgive me I've been stuck in an AU for Amaurot of all things and so me and Estil have been working on that. I have made changes to Evelyn's soul color so there's that Emet chapters are updated as such but I'm sure I'll have to go back and fix the mistakes again. Knowing me and my horrible grammar. I hope you like it and I shall endeavor to get the next chapter out soon.

Emet-Selch appeared from his usual shadowy vigil. He did not follow the warrior to Amh Areang but he did come when he was called, rather it was to see her specifically or perhaps to appease his own curiosity. The sin eaters sky bared heavily on him. He decided to stay as close to the shadows as possible. A part of him was quite frankly shocked she even bothered to call on him at all. He wasn’t expecting a lot after their night, after that night of dancing, of watching her soul gleam between that dark space. He could barely function in her labyrinth of twinkling stars of color. How low might he fall if she brought her entire being bare against his? He could not fathom the outcome. Another memory flashed, something much older. His lips fought to work themselves into a smile but he held his ground. Instead he trained his careful gaze on her. Her hair was sticking to her neck, her arms folded across her chest. 

Her eyes were scorching that night, burning into him with a frustration that he remembered being acutely fond of very long ago. Her lips were set in a fine line, one that he might twist into shock, one that he might kiss away. He did not however, knowing that her wrath could be all encompassing. Emet-Selch leaned against the rock wall and tilted his head, conniving in nature. 

“Why Hero, you look absolutely exhausted. Shall I ask you of your day or should I guess?” 

  
Her eyes narrowed into slits. He felt a vague shiver run up his spine. Gods she was beautiful when she was angry. “Why Dear hero, why are you stumbling about? Are you okay? Should we rest? Surely a break won’t hurt.” He raised his arms and took a few dramatic steps. “And what did you tell them? I fell off my bed at the knock of the door? I bumped into the lip of a dresser? Or—” He took a gloved hand against his cheek, his smile devilish and his eyes bright with mirth. “Did you tell them that the Ascian fucked you into oblivion? Did you tell them how much you enjoyed yourself, how loud you screamed, so much so that he had to enact a spell so we wouldn’t be caught?” 

Whatever danced behind his eyes only fueled her rage. She took his white forelock between her fingers and tugged. “That’s sweet coming from you who gets off on pain, perhaps if I slap you I can illicit a proper response that would speak volumes about your mind frame during our tryst.” 

Emet-Selch made a sound between a purr and a growl. “You see, the difference between you and I my dear. Is that I feel no shame in admitting such. As a matter of fact I welcome a little pain. Especially if it’s from your hand.” Words silky, tempting her to try, for he would have her fall apart once more beneath his touch if she did. 

Evelyn took a few steps back, shuddering at the thought. She convinced herself it was simply the cold air in the middle of the desert. “You’re incorrigible.” She sighed, running a hand down her face. Unbalanced, why did he always catch her off guard? She kicked up some dirt and looked down her feet. “Well I said I would call you, what are you waiting for, back to the Pendents shall we?” 

“So eager, do you think you deserve more of my time?” He reached out for her, a gloved finger running down her cheek. A hiss left her lips, feeling that cool heaviness sink in her bones. “Very well, your hand.” 

His touch disappeared from her, and she was left wanting more. Though she would never admit it his touch was — achingly gentle when he wanted it to be. Reluctantly, she took his gloved hand gently into hers. His other gripped her lower back, pulling her up against him tightly. She couldn’t have turned redder in that moment. 

“Now Hero, do keep a tight grip, I’d hate to lose you to the void so soon.” 

She felt her feet leave the ground and suddenly they weren’t in the desert of Amh Areang. They were in an endless void of violets and blacks. The flicker of dark aether twisted around her but otherwise it did nothing. The billowing of Emet-Selch’s regalia rustled in her ears, his hold on her a comfort as a cold shiver reached her. She gripped onto his jacket and watched the flow of aether rush past her. Her hair whipped in her face, the smell of dark magicks fueling her senses. She nearly closed her eyes, her body in a comfortable suspension with heavy hands holding her in place. Evelyn hummed. Emet-Selch’s hand became tighter around her waist. He shouldn’t feel so satisfied with her in his arms. Emet-Selch almost made the trip longer then necessary. 

Emet-Selch’s feet touched the ground of her chambers. She blinked, and rubbed a lone eye. “You didn’t kidnap me? How relieving.” 

Emet-Selch scoffed. “Please, what would I gain from pushing you into the void?” 

“Your goals met for a Rejoining?” She dead-panned. 

“Yes, the Rejoining of the worlds, the resurrection of Zodiark will be a day to celebrate.” He would sit with his friends and reminisce of a time of Eld and bring the star back to its former glory. There was only he and Elidibus left. They were poor company in each others presence, but they took a minuscule of comfort in the fact that they could still cling onto something familiar. His thoughts turned darker, and he forced them down into a hole where he placed the rest. 

“Don’t look so troubled over it for my sake.” Evelyn began to unstrap her armor, placing it gently on the ground. She gripped the edge of the open doorway to the restroom. “Would you make some coffee?” She smiled, wanting to taste that small feeling of home on her tongue again, wherever that may have been.

Emet-Selch blinked, a small array of emotions coming back to the forefront that he struggled to keep in check. “We shall see.” 

“I like the Hazelnut Emet.” She used his title for affect, for a deception he had scarcely known she could pull off. It wasn’t even his real name and yet… 

“Damn her.” He went to brewing his coffee. “Conniving vixen.” 

When Evelyn came out from the restroom she found a hot cup on the table. Emet-Selch read his small pocket book for what seemed like the thousandth time since she had first gazed upon it. Evelyn sat down and fell into a warm silence. She took the ceramic between her lips and took a long drought. A sense of home came over her again, her mind wandering to find that loose string. 

“You should read me a piece.” She commented.

Emet-Selch put down the book and frowned. “What would be the point you do not understand Amaurotine anymore.” 

“Anymore he says as if I understand what that means.” Still, his subtle drop of riddles had started to collect, and she wasn’t sure if she liked the picture he was forming. “I may not understand it but I can still enjoy it can’t I?” 

“My Hero, are you trying to tell me something?” 

“My Hero? That’s a change of tune.” Evelyn quickly moved the subject to something else. She wouldn’t say she liked his voice and that was the only reason she pushed him to keep talking. “Though I do wish you would use my name.” 

Emet-Selch scoffed, taking a tentative sip of his coffee. “At least I remember names.” He muttered. 

“What?” She looked up, genuinely curious what he had to say. 

Emet-Selch’s lips formed into a hard line. If only she would remember. It didn’t think on her much at all anymore, but when he did he became, stupidly sentimental. He had spent years as Solus being sentimental and it had gotten him nothing but a broken heart after waking up in bed with his wife. Disappointment was all he had left of her at the end. 

“Nothing, I believe we’re here for a reason tonight.” He tried to pull off his usual smugness. 

“You mean you wanted to add to my growing list of transgressions?” 

“I was not aware that honesty was a transgression.” His rested a hand under his chin, his gaze sliding away from hers. 

“It is when you feel a pull toward your enemy.” 

“Is that what it is? Are you sure that isn’t just the sex?” 

A faint coughing could be heard from the other side of the table. Emet-Selch couldn’t help the pull of a smile on his lips, nor the laughter that left his chest. What cosmic revenge, perhaps the fates weren’t that cruel after all. He remembered, a very long time ago he was placed in a rather similar situation.

“You are — the most blunt, infuriating, genocide loving dictator that I have ever had the dishonor of knowing.” 

What a tongue, it was a wonder that she was even elezen, weren’t all rather well spoken and fair with their words? She was the complete opposite. The more she insulted him the more he began to see what he liked in her. “Now we’re getting somewhere, I shall remind you I was chosen by popular vote.” He mentions with a smile that suggested pride. “However, genocide loving dictator does hit a certain nerve.”

“Only perhaps because it strokes your infinite amount of ego you can’t even fathom to fit in your head.” Evelyn bit her lip from smiling to obviously. 

“Ah, that silver tongue.” 

“Will bite if you do not shut up.” She retorted. 

“Fine, back to the topic at hand. I would have your honesty. I do not like liars.” His eyes peered into hers, searching for that answer he wanted to devour.

Her thoughts the first time they brushed hands, or when they kissed, or even when he decided to bed her. All those feelings tumultuously churning within her in a unsure twist. She bit her lip and took a strand of hair between her finger. She always left it down after a bath. The wetness of it sticking to her face, her towel stopping the drops from soaking into her dark shirt. It wasn’t as long anymore, but at least she had a penchant for keeping it up and out of her face. Evelyn took her drink between her fingers and frowned. 

“You won’t laugh at me?” She asked quietly, thumbing the rim of the small cup. 

“There is naught to laugh about when it comes to honesty.” Emet-Selch could say it was the only good thing left in the world is when someone bothered to tell him the truth rather then letting him live in a lie. It wasn’t hard to catch a lie anymore. People were predictable.

Evelyn turned her head and refused to look into that conniving gaze. It would just infuriate her the more she spoke. Instead she concentrated on the pocket book on the table, where his gloved hand lie, cool and inviting. “It is like waking up from a long winter. A hibernation perhaps.” She pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Then I had asked myself how long I had been asleep?” She frowned then. “All my impulse control is thrown out the window with you. Whatever levin, fire, spark, or connection call it what you want it is—” Evelyn looked down at her hands now. “Inviting, tantalizingly so. Cool to the touch but safe? Comfortable?” Her brow knitted, as if confused by her own words. 

“So your enemy is your safe haven, my what would your friends say?” 

Her head snapped up and she glared at him. “Nothing because you promised me you would keep our secret.” 

Emet-Selch threw his hands up. “Your secret, not mine, but, it does not benefit me to start telling everyone I’ve bedded the Warrior of Light.” Lest of all Elidibus. Emet-Selch was honest, he would play with her because Elidibus did wake him up. 

Evelyn bit her tongue, but she couldn’t help herself. “Yes my attention would vanish and then where would you be? Bored and staying your shadowy vigil no doubt.” 

“Would you really throw me aside? I make such lovely company.” He could see the answer in her eyes, and her tense shoulders. He had his claws hooked in her and she was very hesitant to let him go.

“Perhaps not. Seeing as how you’re the only one who’s treated me like a human.” She looked rather upset at her admittance. Emet-Selch had held her during one of her dark hours and then danced her away the night before pressing her into a bed. He would do it again too, selfishly so.

“An Ascian able to make you feel human, a sad reality but a honest one at least.” It was simply because he knew her beyond her title, he always had. Everyone had always had high expectations. She’d taken up that role well knowing the consequences. But that did not mean that it was not hard, or extremely tiring. “Shall I hold up my end of the bargain?” Emet-Selch held out his hand, willing her to come to his side.

Evelyn didn’t think twice about it when she should have. She stood from her spot and moved around the table. Emet-Selch gripped her hand between his and pulled her down onto his lap. A yelp left her, crimson roving over her face at the sudden closeness. Emet-Selch wrapped another hand around the small of her back to keep her in place. He felt her knees rest on either side of his thighs, fitting to perfection against him. 

“W-What are you doing Ascian?” Her hands rested against his chest, idly playing with the embroidery. 

“Fulfilling my side of the bargain of course.” He tilted his head, enjoying her attention entirely to much. 

“Does it have to include this questionable positioning?” He wanted to take her lip between his teeth and bite if she kept looking at him like that.

“Yes it is completely necessary for this entire process.” Emet-Selch’s voice was straight as an arrow, he did not waver.

“I highly doubt that.” 

Emet-Selch smirked, “Now Hero, do close your eyes and concentrate.” 

He watched as her eyes fluttered shut. Emet-Selch pulled his gloves off gently and rested bare fingers against her neck. A soft gasp escaped her. She did not expect his touch, and in turn it made Emet-Selch smile. She could not see it and so he indulged himself if just a little. Gently, he allowed his aether to press against her. He heard another gasp, her shoulders going taunt. How he missed dipping his fingers and mixing up her colors. It could not be so however, her sundered soul was far to fragile for such a touch. 

“Emet.” She whispers breathless, her eyes were lidded, suddenly burning for something. 

“Now concentrate on that feeling, what do you imagine to be.” 

Evelyn tried to concentrate on the feeling of that prickling, that cold seeping into her bones. The more she focused on it the more that she thought of thunder, a calm storm ready to rage, a sense of magick shooting down her core like static. It reminded her of something. It was on the edges of her thoughts that were already frayed. There was something else too, something behind that storm hidden away deep in the depths of what he was trying to express. It made her shudder. She didn’t like that feeling and so Evelyn concentrated on the storm, honed in on it before her eyes fluttered open. 

“A electrical storm charged with magick. Thunder and clouds. It’s — not loud but it isn’t silent either, it’s just, quiet, if that makes sense.” Her voice was a whisper, heady, her hips moving against him unconsciously.

Emet-Selch moved his hands up to her face, cupping her gently before pulling her closer to him. He could feel hot breath fan across his face and he held back the urge to attack her there and sink her back into the mattress. “That is my aether my dear hero.” He whispered, “Every time we are intimate I have indulged you in the extension of myself. Suffice to say you have responded in turn with your own, you just do not realize it. That is your feeling.” 

“You can feel my aether?” 

He did not answer or indulge her for an explanation, instead he replied with something else. “Back in a time of eld this would have been considered very romantic, the sharing of essence the sharing of ones self in the most basic sense. Aether and soul. We did not care about flesh, rather we cared about what made us burn, what made us feel alive. What encouraged the feelings of happiness from someones aether itself. That one soul that we would have stayed with forever and ever until the end of time.” He says it perhaps with to much sentimentality. There was to much in his voice for her to cling to. Emet-Selch sounded too human. 

“You had someone.” She looked at him with such gentleness. 

He hated it, he wanted to wipe it off her face with something hurtful. Emet-Selch could not find it in him however, far to lost in that feeling of her aether and her soul. “What if I did, does it matter? She is dead and gone, she will never come back to me. you have set my plans back for retrieving her. A pity, and a great shame.” He can hear the bitterness in his voice, the loss of her still fresh with him. Yet it was so long ago and he wonders how she ended up here, back in his arms seven times rejoined. 

He felt warmth against his lips, her fingers clutching at bare skin, playing with wispy hair at the nap of his neck. She did not argue with him, did not speak of Rejoinings or how she needed to stop him and counterparts from destroying the First. She simply melted in his arms. She kept him steady away from the thought of Amaurot and his safe, warm, home. From thinking about how cold it was here, how unnatural everything felt in his presence. These sundered beings that she put so much stock into, had killed for and fought for. A small part of Emet-Selch wanted to believe something good would come out of it, but a larger part of him just wanted her to himself. Damn the rest of the world it could go to hell, he wanted her alone. 

Emet-Selch parted his lips, his fingers running down her back to her hips and digging into her skin harshly, desperately. He wanted to make sure she still existed, that it wasn’t a awful dream. Finally, she pulled away for air, and rested her forehead against the stone embedded in his. 

“Mine enemy, if you must take it out on me. I shall distract you from the thought tonight, but you must bring me back before daybreak.” 

“Little vixen.” Emet-Selch chuckled. A devious smirk reached his lips, and glady, he sank deeper into the darkness that was her soul, hoping to perhaps forget he existed for just a little while. 


End file.
